Once Upon a Fractured Fairy Tale
by soulful-sin
Summary: Take a trip down memory lane with two loving sisters Vicky and Tootie. Past, Present, and Future.
1. Hero

Author's Note: I'm thinking about making this into a series. We shall see. And, for the record, you are no longer allowed to indicate any sort of scene transistion with characters or extra spaces. Yes, of course I'm pissed off!

Disclaimer: I don't own FOP. But at least this won't be as violent as The Other Saga, which I might or might not be taking a break from…

Once Upon a Fractured Fairy Tale: Hero

Once upon a time, there was a boy named Timmy Turner. Most called him average, the popular kids called him a pink-hatted bucktooth loser. There was nothing particularly extraordinary about him, nothing Tootie could ascertain, at any rate. She wondered why she fell for him. Then, she remembered…

(Say the word and they won't be there. Scene transition).

_"No, mama!" A four year Tootie, tugging on her mother's skirt begs._

_"I'll do anything, just take me with you!" Tears form in her eyes at the thought of being left alone with her icky sister._

_"We're sorry," her mother lies. She can't stand being in the house as her little tyrant, either. But, this way, at least she can escape her. This is a horrible thing to do her Tootie, but she'll adjust. _Or Vicky'll kill her…__

_"No, you're not! If you were sorry, you'd return her-" Tootie begins but a clap on her shoulder silences her. Vicky, in all her ten-year-old glory, has slammed a hand down to nearly knock her over. Oh, no…_

_"Don't worry, mother dearest. I'll make Tootie really is sorry for her comments." Vicky says, spewing saccharine with every word. Every breath she takes, she shoves her little sister a bit further down. Her knees can barely support it._

_"We must…er, be going. Be good, Tootie," her father says hurriedly, fixing his tie. His eyes shift jerkily, avoiding his eldest daughter's gaze. No one speaks of her in her presence, lest something horrid come out of it._

How come you never tell Vicky to be good?_ Tootie thinks, wrenching her older sister's hand with an effort from her shoulder. Vicky hits her in the back of the head and it takes all her not to start flailing her tiny fists against anywhere she can reach. After all, what good would it do? She'd just end up worse off._

_They spurt off in a record time, fifty five seconds. Vicky ought to know, she has a stopwatch. She smirks, satisfied. Of course they trust her to baby-sit her baby sister, they have no choice. All their past, every deed they've done wrong, she'd got it on file. All they need to do is say the word and she'll bring them down._

_"Do you wanna…play dolls?" Tootie says hopefully. You never know, beneath that cruel exterior, her sister might be a kid at heart. Stranger things have happened._

_"If by dolls you mean chores, then sure! Enjoy playing by yourself, twerpette!" Vicky cackles, shoving her in the direction of the utility closet. "And if this house isn't spotless, you can enjoy sleeping in there!"_

_"I hate you!" Tootie sobs, reluctantly heading in the direction Vicky suggested. Sobs wreak her small frame, but it only makes Vicky laugh. _Of course, she's a cold heartless witch! I wish she were never born and I was the only child!

_"And I love that you hate me. Get to work! I'll be watching cartoons in the living room," Vicky smirks, kicking her in the back and sending her face first into the mops._

_Several exhausting hours later, Tootie collapses into the couch next to her sister. "I did everything. The toilets, the sinks, the floors, the-"_

_"I know what's in our house, brat!" Vicky snaps, her fingers tightly clutching the remote. "I'm not a moron like you! And why do you wear your hair in those stupid pigtails?"_

_"Because I like them!" Tootie says defensively, edging away from her. Teapot rage, in four, three, two, one._

_"I think they're stupid! Get rid of them, now!" Vicky, turning away from the glow of Animaniacs, orders. It seems Vicky has side stepped the arena of suggestions and has headed straight toward demands. _

_"I like them!" Tootie retorts, her arms folded across her chest. Vicky's made her change everything, from her wardrobe to her choice of food, just because she thought it was "stupid". She's sick and tired of this._

_"And I think that if you don't get rid of them right now, I'll chop them off!" Seizing her by them, she yanks her sister up off her feet and, kicking and screaming, drags her to the bathroom. Good, she's glad she can finally get rid of the last thing that really annoys her about her little sister. That and her existence._

_"Let go of me! What did I ever do to you?" Tootie shrieks as she's slammed down unceremoniously on the toilet seat. Unfortunately, since she forgot to put the lid down, she nearly falls in. Darn Vicky._

_"You were born! Now shut up before I rearrange your face!" Vicky snarls, retrieving the scissors, then replacing them. She has a better idea. This'll teach her worthless waste of a sister to act up._

_"What are you doing?" Tootie asks cautiously, her eyes on the cabinet. She doesn't like where this is going. From what she can see with her limited view, it appears as though Vicky is in her father's cabinet. But why? What's in there?_

_"You know, it's not just the pigtails that annoy me. I think it's your hair in general. You know what the problem is? You have it." In her hands was her father's razor and Tootie gulps. Oh, no, not this. _

_Too late smart, Tootie bolts for the door but Vicky locks it, sealing her doom. The razor, once plugged in, viciously purrs to life. Tootie is reminded of a lion on the hunt, ready to attack. _

_"Oh…" Tootie moans, her arms wrapped about her legs. "You aren't gonna use that on me, are you?"_

_Still purring, the crimson razor slowly approaches her head. As it does, Vicky grins maliciously. Oh, what the kids will say when she gets back to preschool! She can't wait! Maybe she should take a camera and record the moment for prosperity._

_Tootie cries out in pain as the razor, reaching its intended target, gets caught in her plastic hairpins. Frustrated beyond belief at this, Vicky wrenches both the pin and the hair out, causing her scalp to bleed. Damn, she should have thought of this beforehand. Ah, never mind. This causes an infinitely greater amount of pain._

_"Stop it!" Tootie protests and flings her hand up. Perhaps blind to this, or perhaps apathetic, Vicky continues to scalp her until the razor gets caught…in her little sister's hand. Now there's too much blood to see…_

_Stunned at what she's done, for she really isn't that evil yet, Vicky stumbles backward and into the bathtub. While she does enjoy torturing her sister, the sight of all that blood nauseates her. Besides, she might die at this rate, because the razor is embedded in the girl's palm._

_Vision growing steadily more and more clouded, Tootie finally passes out, her palm split open. Vicky takes awhile to process this, that she was responsible for her little sister and although she enjoyed forcing her to do the chores and threatening to shave her head, the idea of killing her is a little too extreme even for her._

_Cautiously rising, Vicky hoists herself out of the bathtub and checks her sister's pulse. Tootie groans and tosses her head, but nothing more. As much as she hates it, she's growing worried about her. Besides, if something happens to Tootie, something might happen to her for happening to Tootie._

_But what to do? As much as she'd love to just bolt, it might look a tad suspicious. Besides, there might be laws against leaving her like this. Grr…does that mean she has to save the shrimp's life?_

_Her decision is made for her when Timmy's parents, checking up on their neighbors as per her parents' request, stride into the house. They're chatting amiably, not suspecting one of the girls upstairs could be bleeding to death. Well, if anyone asks, Vicky'll just say Tootie did it. Accidents will happen, blah, blah, blah._

_"Vicky? Tootie? Your parents asked us to come over and-" Mrs. Turner begins but is cut off because her little boy has darted up the stairs. Recently, she's begun to wonder about him because he does the oddest things. For example, yesterday, she found him glancing at an empty fishbowl, asking if fairies could turn into fish._

_"Mom! Mom!" Timmy cries, banging on the bathroom door. "There's someone in there!" _

_"Of course there is, honey. The door is closed. We should wait for them to come out," Mrs. Turner says, trying to pry her son away. Mr. Turner is behind them, impatiently stamping his foot; he has to use it too._

_"No! I smell blood…" Timmy whispers and his parents shiver. No more horror flicks before bed for him. Since he's a kid, they're ready to write it off as something as trivial as that. Besides, smelling blood? C'mon._

_Mr. Turner, knocking on the door but hopping on one foot, growls. "I knew I should have done in the house! Why did I eat all that prune juice?"_

_"You mean drink, dear," Mrs. Turner corrects absentmindedly, wrenching her 'precious gift from above' with great effort from the handle. For a four year old, he certainly has a tenacious grip. She would marvel at it, but she has more important matters at hand._

_"No, I mean eat. It was frozen!" Finally sick of waiting, Mr. Turner barges in, heedless of anyone who might be caught in a humiliating position behind. Fortunately, no one is, so he proceeds to unzip his pants. "Dad" lacks peripheral vision._

_"Mr. Turner!" Vicky gasps, blushing furiously. Tootie, sprawled out beside the toilet, moans slightly. This draws his attention away from his full bladder, for the time being._

_Timmy, free of his mother (she's too busy gazing at the sisters to notice him), rushes to the pigtailed girl. He doesn't know why, but the sight of blood fascinates him. And he was right- there _is _blood._

_Tootie's eyelids flicker; she can't see anything, though, because the fall broke her glasses. Still, her tiny hand seeks out comfort, the one free of the razor. The sole thing she sees before fainting again is a boy in a pink t-shirt and a silly pink hat. Her savior…_

(Where the wild stars would be)

Her legs folded neatly beneath her, Tootie shut her diary with a soft click. Surrounding her were relics of her obsession. She didn't know how she'd live without Timmy. Still, not all her memories of him were bathed in such a glow…


	2. Never Underestimate the Power of Cruelty...

Author's Note: I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed. (glomps you all) I really appreciate it.

Disclaimer: I don't own it. You should know that by now. Why else would I spend my money on FOP notebooks and folders if I did?

Chapter Two: Never Underestimate the Power of Cruelty in Large Groups

Flinging herself atop her bed, Tootie blinked back tears. Today had been one of the worst in her life, perhaps she was exaggerating. Vicky, after all, had ensured she'd have a lot of the 'worst days' in her life. But this had to be a close second.

Trixie Tang, the fabulous slut, had opted on 'accidentally' spilling food on her at lunch, right in front of Timmy. Spoiled carrots, three months old, green mashed potatoes, gravy that strongly resembled sludge, and a can of fermented orange juice, all over her. She'd been a walking magnet for all sorts of filth, taunts, and the occasional rat.

Coming home hadn't been much better. Icky Vicky, several hours before she was due to babysit Timmy (she'd gotten his parents tickets for the theater so they'd be gone some time), decided to send Doidle into her room again, shredding a few pictures before Tootie threatened to throw her and her dog out the window. That led to solitary confinement, a punishment that suited her perfectly.

No point in coming out, really. No friends, no one to comfort her. The only thing out there was Timmy, and he didn't seem to care, period. He'd always been like this…

(Five years ago, Dimmsdale Elementary, kindergarten)

_"I don't wanna play with her!" Timmy Turner, resplendent with a green plastic shovel, insists. Beside him are his new friends, __Chester__ and A.J., both still wearing the smocks from art. They scowl at this pigtailed intrusion._

_ "But I wanna play with you, Timmy!" Tootie cries. "I love you!" _

_ The three boys exchange looks of horror. Love, what is this insane thing? Who is this girl, to stalk their pink-hatted friend? What is wrong with her, anyway?_

_ "Um, I'm going to go play blocks…ova there!" Darting across the room, Timmy snatches the wooden logs from their cupboard as quickly as humanly possible. His friends follow suit, all of them finding her extremely creepy. She can't help it, she wants to show Timmy how much he means to her after last year._

_ "Timmy! Why don't you like me?" Tootie sobs, all alone with the stuffed animals. No other children will play with her either. So not only does Timmy, her hero, shun her; she's shunned by people who don't even know her._

_ The squeaky Mister Bunny, with its sparkling purple ribbon and fluffy neon exterior, fails to comfort her. It could be that it has a tuft of red hair jutting out from it, reminding her of Vicky. Therefore, its broad smile seems faked, its tender exterior merely an act._

_ Vicky told her this morning, on her first day of kindergarten, that after lunch, a big scary man comes and takes the first child he doesn't like into the woods. He then buries a hatchet in their head and flings their body for the jackals to devour. Tootie has decided to skip lunch._

_ The teacher, an elderly woman with graying hair up in a bun, a kindly voice, slightly chubby, wearing a demure flowered dress, smiles at her but resumes attending to the rest of the class. She knows the girl's sister and secretly wants nothing to do with her. This will be how it is for her, everyone will fear her because of her connection to Vicky. It's a curse, except when they discover how easily it is to push her over._

_ "Oh, look! It's four eyes with her freaky pigtails and her crush on buck tooth!" Trixie Tang, wearing the latest in kiddy fashion, taunts. Only her first day there and she already has a posse. Tootie would be more envious if it weren't for the fact that the man might kill her instead._

_ In unison, the pretty brunette, her new found towheaded admirer, an African American boy that, if it weren't for his pigment, could have been the blond boy's duplicate, and the blonde boy burst into cackles of laughter. She can feel their hatred on her, settling like a Venus flytrap on an unsuspecting fly. Their laughter shakes her to the core- will no one be her friend? Is she doomed to spend the rest of her life longing for that which she can never have?_

_ Over the din, Tootie hears Timmy talking to his friends. Craning her neck, she listens intently. Perhaps Timmy has something pleasant to say about her? Maybe he secretly likes it when she stalks him?_

_ "What's up with that girl, anyway?" Chester, stacking up a tower of blocks, inquires. He's doing this all wrong, as A.J. is apt to point out. A.J.'s correct, though- one more block and the whole thing will tumble._

_ "Oh, you mean Tootie the Fruitie? I dunno. She follows me around, sayin' that she's in love with me. If you wanna know the truth, she scares me. Those braces, the way she says my name- if she ever caught me, I think I'd bite her," Timmy says nonchalantly, heedless of who he might be hurting unintentionally._

Is that so? What's so scary about me? How can he say those things? I love him! _Tootie thinks, fists balled. She soon has another reason for her anger- Timmy can't stop staring at Trixie and it becomes apparent he finds her to be-_

___ "A goddess," Timmy whispers, spittle on his cheek. He doesn't even notice; he's too intent on Trixie. Not even __Chester__'s tower falling at his feet deters him. He must get her to know him._

___ "I think that pink hatted loser is staring at you," Veronica, wearing the latest in kid fashion, whispers none too softly. Tootie overhears this as well- she's become such a non-person, no one realizes she's present anymore. She'd cry if she weren't afraid the lunch man would come and eat her for being weak._

___ "He isn't a loser!" Tootie snaps, rising. If looks could kill, well, Fairly Oddparents might be vastly different. As hatefully as Trixie stared at her before, this is exactly how she glared at her._

___ "Says the girl who can't even coordinate her wardrobe," Trixie snipes, defending Veronica. Pudgy hands placed on her hips, she crosses over __Chester__'s fallen pillar to fix Tootie an evil eye. Although she could clearly care less about Timmy (as is evident by her almost stepping on his hand as he bends down to aid his friend in picking up his blocks), this girl has gotten under her skin. And no one gets under Trixie Tang's skin, at least, none that want to live to see the dawn._

___ Tootie gulps- Trixie reminds her of her sister and she's petrified. What could she do to her? What if she decides to attack her prized hair like Vicky did last year? Her hand can't survive another razor._

___ Trixie's already attained the attention of her beloved; who knows how far she'll go? She is her rival, and on the first day of school, too. Wow, she certainly can instigate fights, if only she could figure out how to get people to leave her alone. (Well, everyone except Timmy, he can bug her all he wants)._

___ "I hope the lunch man eats you and spits your guts out for the dogs to tear apart!" Tootie snaps, casting aside Mister Bunny and standing upright. Instead of quaking in fear, all burst into peals of laughter. Even the teacher, normally compassionate to a fault, joins in. _

___ So, for what feels like an eternity but is in reality, thirty minutes, Tootie is subjected to derisive guffaws. Even Timmy, or perhaps especially Timmy, finds mirth in her misinformation. She wants to bury her head in her hands and she does. _

___ The teacher, in a customary moment of ineptitude, vacates the room, rendering Tootie the focus. Now, no judges preside, none to take her side. Let the torture begin._

___ First things first, Trixie narrows the distance and halts a mere foot before her. She places a comforting hand on her shoulder, but this does not serve the same purpose as Tootie hopes. Why should she expect compassion from this girl, now or ever?_

___ "I'm going to get you!" Trixie croons, walking her fingers up and down her shoulder. "I'm the lunch man!"_

___ Ignoring the obvious, the class, holding their sides, all but scream in laughter. Tootie's cheeks burn indignantly and tears slide unabated down her face. Longing to remove Trixie's hand from her shoulder, possibly instigating a fight, she quakes in fear for Trixie reminds her of Vicky. This becomes her motto in life- never stand up for yourself unless it's for Timmy's benefit. Timmy is her world._

___ Currently, though, her world can't stop laughing at her. He and his friends have ceased playing, opting for hanging onto each other lest they collapse in laughter. She wishes she could tune him out, tune the world out, to retain a shred of her self-esteem. _

___ "I'll drown you in chocolate milk, cram you full of cookies until you burst, and then I'll eat you! Because I'm the lunch man and I'm evil!" Trixie cackles, pretending to chomp her face with her fingers._

___ "Yeah, and I'm her boyfriend, the lunch man too!" Timmy calls, yielding many hands slapped to foreheads. "I mean, uh…"_

___ "Shut up! All of you! Just leave me alone!" Tootie howls and many jaws fall slack. "Shut up", at this age, is a curse word. Fortunately, the room falls silent due to their utterance._

___ Using this to her advantage, Tootie shoves Trixie off her and darts outside. The teacher, engaged in idle chitchat, does not notice. Grand, now she's a nobody laughing stock. Just what she wanted for her first day of kindergarten._

___ Vision so obscured by tears she couldn't see, she plows into a smiling man wheeling a large tray of milk, cookies, and sandwiches. She knocks headlong into his legs, falling back onto the metal._

___ "Are you all right?" He inquires, his shaggy brown hair and scraggly stubble aquiver with anxiety for her. From her angle, all she can see, if she blinks hard enough, are khaki cargo pants. _

___ "Who are you?" Tootie asks, fearful. Just what she needs now, another nasty surprise. That tray looks like lunch…_

___ "Why, I'm the lunch man," he replies, smiling at her. "What would you like for lunch? I have lady's fingers-"_

___ "Aargh!" Tootie screams, darting from this too. Her head is killing her, but she doesn't care. She has to get out of here somehow._

___ Watching her dash through the doors, he frowns. "I really should call them something else."_

___ Meanwhile, sobbing her heart out, Tootie swings back and forth, melancholy. She isn't sure who she hates more right now- Trixie, for picking on her, Vicky for telling her the story, or Timmy for laughing along with them. As a matter of fact, she thinks that could be the most poignant thing about her situation currently; even her knight in shining armor found her predicament amusing._

___ She waits an hour for someone to notice she's out on the playground. By the time they do, recess has begun and she's hassled by Trixie's crew. They want the swing, they command her to leave._

___ Driven from her solace, Tootie glances over at Timmy and decides to join him. Maybe he'll amend his cruelty to her by allowing her to play with him. Maybe he'll say he's sorry and she can be happy again. Nothing would please her more than to spend time with her beloved._

___ "Timmy? Can I play with you?" Tootie whispers, head hung low. A few tears splatter the ground- A.J. and __Chester__ stare at her. They don't seem to understand why she's so miserable._

___ "No girls allowed!" Timmy snaps, swinging from the monkey bars. "Go away!"_

___ Strutting around, Trixie passes. Timmy falls off his handle, straight onto the sand. His eyes follow her. _

___ "Wanna play with me, Trixie?" Timmy calls, ignoring the sand covering his pants. A.J. and __Chester__ shake their heads, they already know what she'll say. What's the point of asking?_

___ Trixie, contemptuously, disregards him, instead snickering at Tootie as she and her crew pass again. Tootie's cheeks burn with fury. Timmy got her into this mess, why couldn't he get her out?_

_____ "You said 'no girls allowed'! She's a girl!" Tootie protests, close to tears again._

_____ "And what a girl she is…" Timmy murmurs, his tongue all but dangling from his mouth. She can tell by looking at him that he's got it bad._

_____ "What about me? I want to play with you and I asked, unlike miss high and mighty!" _

_____ "Don't insult Trixie! She's a real girl, unlike _you,_" Timmy counters, rising. In his hands, he's accrued sand. _What's he going to do with it_, she wonders._

_____ Taking a few furtive steps forward, she begins removing the sand, just in case he accidentally carried it. She's too naïve and trusting._

_____ "Go away!" Now she knows why he had it. Using the proximity, Timmy throws the sand in her hair and her eyes. He continues to dump it on her until, finally, morose, Tootie leaves._

_____ "Fine!" Tootie snaps, stumbling. Unable to find her way around, she settles down on the grass; she hopes her vision will clear soon. She has no idea where she landed._

_____ Oh, but Trixie, feeling it her sworn duty, informs her after stepping on her leg. She claims both that she "didn't see her there" and that she's sat in dog excrement. How much worse can this day get?_

_____ After recess, reeking, even the teacher avoids her. The rest of the class has delegated to the other side of the room, occasionally sending nasty looks her way. She's unwanted, here and at home._

_____ Until the bell rings, she reads storybook after storybook. Their message of serenity fails to placate her, though. All she gathers from it is the important of pretense. No matter how miserable she is, she must always show the world she's happy, even if it's only for Timmy._

_____ At long last, the bell rings and they collect their bags from their cubbies. No one wants to stand near her, so they shove her to the side until they're gone. The teacher leaves as well, forcing her to gather her bag in solitude._

_____ Running as fast as she can, Tootie catches up to Timmy and his friends. All three wrinkle their noses in distaste. Stinky freaky girl is back._

_____ "What do you want?" Timmy snaps, an air of impatience evident._

_____ "I wanna walk home with you. We only live a few houses from each other, so, uh…please?" Tootie begs._

_____ "No! You're a rotten fruit loop! I don't want anything to do with you and don't follow me!" _

_____ She does anyway, in order to keep her hero in view. Unfortunately, he doesn't take too kindly to this, striking her with his backpack until she stops. By the time he's at his house, she's crying again._

_____ "Have a good day, twerpette? I see the lunch man didn't get you," Vicky smirks, leaning on the doorframe. _

_____ As Tootie nears, she too wrinkles her nose. Lord, does her little sister reek. Well, she knows what will fix that._

_____ "There is no lunch man!" Tootie retorts, uneasy with the way Vicky's looking at her. There's only one thing associated with that look-chores._

_____ "Start scrubbing the bathroom, stinky! I don't want a word out of you!"_

_____ "But you lied to me!" Tootie protests, her chest still heaving with sobs. Vicky shoves her inside, slamming the door. _

_____ "I didn't lie. There _is _a lunch man…" Snatching a knife from the kitchen counter, she brandishes it in her face. _

_____ "ME! Now get to work and no complaining!"_

___(Present day)_

She wished she could see Timmy from her bedroom window. The sight of him always excited her, no matter how he treated her. He could kick sand in her face, hit her with his bag, and embarrass her in front of everyone- it was okay. She could take anything he threw at her.

Ignoring the little voice in her head telling her she deserved to be treated better, Tootie opened up her book, losing herself in someone else's misery.


	3. Icky with a V

Author's Note: Tis short in order to keep the rating as it is.

Disclaimer: You know, ownership is a strange thing. Some people own something, some don't. I, for instance, don't own FOP. Imagine that…remarkable, isn't it?

Chapter Three: Icky with a V

Scowling, Vicky kicked over the Turner's garbage can, watching its contents spill. A red jacket enveloped her, but failed to keep out the chill in her heart. She no longer tried to warm it- all attempts were futile.

Crossing her path was a stray kitten and she glared at it contemptuously. It mewed, rubbing against her, giving her an excuse to fling it into the overturned can. Fortunately, the cat was merely frightened and not actually hurt, but it shied away from her all the same.

In a few minutes, her first babysitting night of the winter would begin. She'd have loved to show an emotion, but knew the only one forthcoming was rage and hatred. For years, she'd lived in that world, it was her safe haven.

Smiling bitterly, she recalled it was nearly ten years ago today. Ten years ago, she used to be innocent. Hell, she used to love and be loved. Part of her wished she could turn back time and stop herself from ever getting into that situation. But even if she could, would she be dead if she had?

Sitting down on the cold sidewalk, Vicky reflected.

(Tootie's birthday, ten years ago, January 6th)

_Her parents are late picking her up. She knows they'll be there, she has every bit of confidence they will. After all, they're her parents and they love her- they wouldn't let anything happen to her._

_ A new baby is coming, something that fills Vicky with dread. Once this child arrives, she won't be the center of attention anymore. It'll be __ten o'clock__ feedings, baby this, baby that. She wants to cram the baby back in her mother's belly, that'd make everyone happy. Well, maybe not her mother, she'd have one heck of a stomachache, but she'd adjust._

_ The swings rock back and forth ominously and she clutches the metal chains on hers tightly. Around her, shadows increase- the sun is setting. Her parents are very late, perhaps dangerously so._

_ "Where are they?" Vicky moans, a tear slipping down her face. "They're supposed to be here!"_

___ Before long, the sun sets and she's alone in the park. Terror grips her and she calls out uncertainly, hoping a friend will come and rescue her. Who would abandon a child, anyway?_

___ "Hello." Dressed all in black, a man wielding a knife greets her. Behind him are four equally shady men, all carrying various weapons. Bile rises in her throat and she swallows hard, jumping from terror to abject, absolute, all encompassing horror._

___ "Um…" Holding out her bag as a peace offering, she bows her head. Her hands shake as she does so._

___ The leader merely laughs, knocking it out of her hands. He nods to the others, who snatch her off the swing and throw her to the ground. She has one vision of a child, a boy wearing a hat with buckteeth, glancing at her but running off, terrified, before the world goes black._

_(Early morning, the next day)_

___She's sore all over. It takes her a moment to force her brain to remember what she'd rather forget, but she does. And the thought fills her with rage, more rage than is normal for a six year old child._

___ She wants to hurt them, make them wish they were never born for doing this to her. Blood, her blood, pools at her feet, from various cuts and scrapes. She fought, she remembers that._

___ She remembers the pain, like it was happening again. Every punch, every slice into her delicate skin, she remembers it all. And she remembers the child, running at the moment she could use backup._

___ So, what has she learned? First off, children are to be hated. They cannot be trusted with the most simple task- help someone in need. Even if she can't punish the one who got away, she can punish the ones to come. She can make them pay, in any way, shape, or form. She'll ruin their lives, because they ruined hers._

___ And as for her parents – they'd fear her. Because it's their fault they weren't there for her, and now she's paying the price. If they'd cared, they wouldn't have let this happen to her, allowed to be beaten to within an inch of her life._

_Besides, __she thinks_, if it's because that brat had to be born yesterday, then I'll make her really wish she were never born. It's everyone's fault but mine and no matter what happens, that's how it'll always be. I'll get her for this, though. She'll be dead.

___Moaning slightly, she forces herself to stand up and walk home. By the time she gets there, her anger has intensified to the point where random adults are frightened of her. Good, she likes the fear. She can work with it, meld it._

___ Her parents beam at her as she walks in the door. In her mother's arms is a baby girl, cooing happily. It makes her, if possible, even more furious._

___ "Get that brat away from me!" Vicky snaps, shoving Tootie out of her arms. She has to swoop to catch her._

___ "What's the matter, sweetie?" Her father asks, placing a hand on her shoulder._

___ "Don't touch me! Don't ever touch me again! You and your kind are all alike!" Vicky spits, dashing up the stairs._

___ "You say you love me, but you're just a liar! Liar, liar, liar! I could have died, but you didn't care!_

___ "You know what I have to say to that? I hope you both rot in hell!"_

___ With that, she marches up the stairs, hiding her pain. Her parents stare at each other, clueless but shaken. In due time, though, they begin to fear her and her reign of terror begins._

_(Present day)_

"And it's going on now," Vicky murmured, all but breaking the door down. It was time to see the twerp again, the one who so resembled the boy who fled the scene. She'd make him pay, over and over again.

No one did that to Vicky and got away with it. She knew, or her alias wasn't Icky Vicky.


	4. To Chill a Cold

Author's Note: Two in one. Woot!

Disclaimer: I think you know this already. Just in case, no own.

Chapter Four: To Chill a Cold

Tootie shivered, freezing under the covers. Her sister decided the best way to cure a cold was to kill her, er, it. So, while her parents were at work, hiding (in her opinion), Vicky stayed home and continuously dropped her room's temperature by ten degrees. Tootie could see her breath.

Actually, she didn't suffer from a cold but from food poisoning, courtesy of Miss Tang's hurl of rotten food. She swore, with every passing day, she hated her more and more. But, of course, she kept her mouth shut on that subject, lest she completely ruin her chances of Timmy liking her.

"Cold enough for you?" Vicky cackled, opening the door and shivering slightly in the frigid environment.

"If you want me to catch pneumonia and die," Tootie muttered, huddled in a fetal position for warmth.

Snickering, her sister added, "Not before Timmy gets home and sees your face turn blue. I think it might make a nice wallet size picture, too. I need to get a camera.

"Now, I need one for the twerp, Trixie, all of the popular kids…" She rattled off the names, shutting the door and striding down the stairs. As soon as Tootie heard the car door slam and the ignition start, she slid out of bed to adjust the thermostat.

God, she hadn't been this cold since that winter, many years ago, when Dimmsdale Elementary's kindergarten went on their annual pilgrimage…

(Huddled in the cold, in front of Dimmsdale Elementary, waiting for the bus, January, 8:00 a.m. PST)

_"I wish Vicky hadn't tricked me into wearing a short sleeve shirt and a skirt," Tootie mutters, hugging her arms to her chest. She stands in the far back of the line; hidden from view and trying to pretend she doesn't exist. Besides, if she's turned into an icicle, she won't anyway._

_ Mrs. Calcutta, the kindergarten teacher, calls the children onto the bus, a clipboard and sheet in her hand. The line moves quickly, with the exception of Tootie, who's dragging her feet. She doesn't relish a day at the zoo, watching the animals alone while her classmates cheer and roar. Actually, at this point, happy people irk her a bit._

_ There is a brief delay while the teacher searches for Tootie's name on the sheet. The students moan and groan, whining about how they'll miss the creatures, wide and tall. Tootie wishes she could feel something for them, anything, but she's numb inside, both from the cold and the sensation of being ostracized by her love._

_ "Ah, I'm afraid you aren't on the list, so you can't come along," The teacher says with false concern. Tootie's too saddened by this news to consider snapping back that she's positive she handed in a slip._

_ "Maybe the lunch man ate it!" One of the kids cries from the bus and most snicker. A few complain that the joke's old already, but Timmy does neither. She gazes at him, wondering what he's thinking._

_ "I saw her hand it in," Timmy says stoutly, causing some heads to turn. "And I know A.J. and __Chester__ did too. Why don't you look at the list again?"_

_ Prodded by their friend, __Chester__ and A.J. agree quickly. Tootie's face flushes- Timmy, her knight in shining armor, is defending her! He actually cares about her!_

_ Reluctantly, the teacher finds the name (she, like Tootie, was pretending she didn't exist) and permits Tootie to board the bus. All are present and accounted for, time to motor._

All the empty seats are taken. Where am I going to sit? _Striding down the aisle, Tootie fails to notice the bus moving until she lands flat on her butt. Trixie snickers and Tootie turns away from her, keeping her cool just barely._

_ "Um, the back seat is a four seater," Timmy murmurs, gazing down at the floor. She leaps at the chance, wedging herself between him and A.J. A wide grin spreads across her face- Timmy wants her to hang with him!_

_ "Timmy!" Tootie shrieks, grabbing his head between her hands and kissing his cheeks heartily. He goes scarlet and tries to fend her off while __Chester__ and A.J., finding this amusing, snort with laughter._

_ "Stop it! I'll get cooties, girl cooties!" Timmy cries, pushing her off him. She settles down, disappointed. _

_ Grinning still, she says, "Thanks for sticking up for me. No one else has before."_

_ Still red, he murmurs, "Um, no problem..."_

_ "But can you tone it down a little? You know, stop kissing me and stuff. I don't really like it."_

_ "Oh," She replies, deflated. "Okay."_

_ "So, Tootie," A.J. says, chuckling still, "why do you like Timmy so much?"_

_ "Yeah," __Chester__ pipes in, "you stalk him, Timmy told us."_

_ "Because he saved my life!" Tootie cries, wrapping her hand around his. "He's my knight in shining armor!"_

_ "Yeah, right!" Trixie, overhearing them, snorts. "What's the matter, Tootie, couldn't get a normal boy to like you so you had to make up some story about Pinky here?"_

_ "I'm not making this up!" Tootie snaps back, squeezing Timmy's hand so hard the bones move under her hand. He tries to pry her off but can't- her grip is too strong._

_ "Oh, just like the lunch man? I suppose you didn't make him up either, he just magically vanished when he realized what a dork you are!" _

_ "That isn't true! I was tricked!" Tootie says defensively, cutting off Timmy's blood circulation. He karate chops her arm with his other hand but she ignores him._

_ "By who? The tooth fairy?" Trixie snickers. "Or the Easter Bunny?" _

_ "My older sister Vicky!" Tootie snaps, about to break Timmy's hand with any more pressure. He jumps up and karate chops her in the shoulder, but she still doesn't let up. At this rate, he's going to lose a hand._

_ "Let go!" Timmy cries. "You're hurting me!"_

_ In response to this, Trixie snickers, turning back to her cronies. They share a laugh at Timmy and Tootie's expense then proceed to ignore them for the rest of the ride. Good, Tootie didn't want to deal with her anyway._

_ Releasing his hand quickly (it's turned pale), she glances back at him. Her other hand is in a barely concealed fist. However, she refrains from striking Trixie, despite her strong desire to. Timmy wouldn't like it if she hit her and ruined that perfect face._

_ "I guess you want me to go 'way now," Tootie whispers, gathering her bag and walking down the aisle. She plops herself on the floor, knowing no one will want to sit with her. She'd best resign to this fate- no one wants to be friends with a pigtailed, glasses wearing loser like her._

_ "You're gonna get dirty sittin' there," Timmy says and proffers a hand. Face as red as a ripe tomato, he aids her up and she nearly falls over in shock. He manages to catch her and there is a tense moment where their bodies are in contact._

_ "Thanks…" She whispers, holding his hand longer than necessary. Unfortunately, he grows uncomfortable as well as clammy and the connection is severed. _

_ Settling back down, she's in seventh heaven, not answering any questions for the rest of the ride but focusing on Timmy's actions. He wanted her to hang out with him, caught her when she fell, and held her hand. He likes her! _

_ When the bus stops, the teacher informs the class buddies are needed. Tootie grabs Timmy's hand instinctively, much to his chagrin. But the pairings are chosen and this is who she will be spending the day with._

_ This has to be most enjoyable day in her life. Timmy, in a rare display of concern (rare for him to behave that way to her), gives her his jacket and shivers in his long sleeved pink t-shirt. They walk around, her hand holding his tightly, and observe the animals._

_ When lunch comes, she has to let go, but this doesn't matter to her. Nothing matters to her as long as Timmy's holding her hand, nothing at all…_

_ "Welcome back to Earth," Trixie sneers, holding out an animal treat. Tootie eyes her warily, wondering what she's up to._

_ "I thought you'd like an animal treat," she adds, shoving it in her face. "Since you seem to like them so much."_

_ Glaring at her, Tootie reaches for her hand to knock it out when Trixie grabs her by the mouth and shoves it down her throat. Tootie nearly chokes on it- it's salty, slimy (it came from a horse's mouth, actually), and generally unpleasant. It's like eating Vicky._

_ "What's the matter? Don't you like being an animal? You seemed to enjoy it so much when you were with Tommy, acting like a complete beast and hanging all over him!"_

_ "It's Timmy!" Tootie manages to choke out, on all fours because of the foulness of the treat. Trixie, naturally, finds this amusing._

_ "Fetch, dog, fetch!" Kicking her, she manages to make sure Tootie slides into a metal garbage can. Then, once this is done, she saddles off to her friends, laughing it up. Tootie wants to kill her._

_ Timmy stares after her, strangely compelled by her cruelty. Part of him wants to yell at her for being so mean to Tootie, but the rest is sick of being stalked and so, does nothing. Tootie is forced to retrieve water on her own, in the hopes of getting the taste out of her mouth._

_ Not soon after, he removes his jacket from her shoulders and offers it to Trixie. She naturally declines, but she's never had a problem with warmth. She radiates enough hot air to heat a stadium._

_ Sitting on the side, rubbing her arms, Tootie watches the other children munch on their lunch. She has none, since Vicky would not pack it for her and her parents were out of the house before she could ask. No one offers her any of theirs, so she rests her head on her arms and tries her best to tune them out._

_ By the time the hour is up (and Tootie's stomach is growling so loudly, she could swear they can hear it), some have changed partners. In particular, there are now two groups of three and she has no one. They all head off, leaving her alone and vulnerable._

_ She wanders by the lions, no longer cute and cuddly. Rousing from their nap, they growl at her, one even roaring. Without Timmy by her side, she runs away, whimpering in fear._

_ Running as fast as she can as hard as she can, she's lost in no time in the myriad of attractions and stands. Adults, seeing her nametag and associating her with Vicky, turn away. Children, especially the illiterate ones, mock her derisively. _

_ Stumbling, at long last a map is within her sights. It tells her just what she needs to know- five minutes too late. _

_ For pulling out the parking lot is her bus, minus her. Trixie waves at her from the window, yelling something about this being her home. A wail of misery rises up, but she squelches it. Home first, then crying._

_ Dragging her feet, it takes her hours to get home. No one offers her a ride, they're all too busy. So much for the kindness of strangers..._

_ Vicky opens the door just as she arrives. For a second, she almost wishes she'd stayed at the zoo._

_ "You're late, shrimp," Vicky barks, holding out a mop and bucket. "And Mom and Dad'll be home any minute, so I need you to-"_

_ Tootie, chilled from the constant exposure to twenty degree weather, starved from not eating anything, and exhausted from the walk home, collapses and Vicky swoops down to catch her. She doesn't know why, but she carries her up to bed and tucks her in. Tootie, eyes shutting and barely conscious, hears one final thing…_

_ "Those bastards, just like what happened to me."_

(Present day)

Even now, Tootie had no idea what that meant. All she knew was her sister was nice for a change- she wished she could be that way again.

But she'd hardened over the years, from what she could remember. Just like Timmy, she'd grown colder, possibly eviler.

Speaking of colder, she needed another blanket, but, wait, hadn't Vicky roasted them in the fireplace this morning?

Curling up, she prayed for warmth and waited, for what she wasn't certain. Whatever it was, it had to be better than this.


	5. By Any Other Name

Author's Note: This story gets a plot! Only, the thing is, after this chapter, it's not an original one. How, you may ask? Well, if you're reading my lower rated FOP series, you'll know what I'm talking about.

Disclaimer: Please don't sue me! PLEASE! I like having no money, I mean...FOP doesn't belong to me.

Chapter Five: By Any Other Name

From her room, she could hear Vicky's TV blare. Screams of people in pain (she was watching "Fear Factor") echoed, making her shiver. Recently, she'd gotten the idea into her mind that Tootie might benefit from an involuntary sign-up.

Timmy was coming over later. His house had been bizarrely wrecked again (she wasn't asking) and after working things out with her parents and his, they agreed Timmy could stay overnight.

The thought made her giggle happily. Timmy, only a door away! She could just run into his room in her jammies and hug and kiss him to her heart's content.

But this wasn't the first time he'd slept over, she remembered. It was a cold, dark night then, the wind whistling mournfully between the trees…

_(Five years ago, Friday the 13th of October)_

_ His parents are going out. That was all she knows and all she cares to know. No matter where they're going, it means Timmy gets to stay over. _

_ Vicky isn't really babysitting him, his parents are under the mistaken impression it is their parents. But she knows once Vicky takes control; her parents will be more terrified of her than Timmy. They'll hide in their room, doing whatever it is they do._

_ Timmy is strong. He has whatever it takes to take control, to dominate Vicky. She can tell these things just by looking at him. Besides, he is her knight in shining armor, he can do anything._

_ Peeking up at the top of the stairs, she watches Timmy's parents part with their 'precious gift from above'. She wishes her parents thought of her that way, instead of the way Vicky thought of her, as a mistake. No matter what she did, it was a mistake. She was wrong just for being born._

_ Beaming, he leaves for the unknown danger Vicky poses. His eyes dart upstairs, meeting hers. She longs to dash downstairs and tackle him to the floor, covering him in kisses. But Vicky's eyes are on her as well and she remains stock-still._

_ "Listen, twerp, I'm not in the mood for your bull, so go play with the brat and leave me alone," Vicky snaps, kicking Timmy upstairs. Tootie spots tears in his eyes at this rough treatment, but he says naught a word. Just as she thought, he was strong._

_ Tugging his heavy bag behind him (his parents might have packed a bit too much, including food just in case he got hungry from their house to the car); Timmy walks slowly up the stairs. She rushes to grab his bag and nearly falls over from its weight. Instead of laughing at her, he catches her and they (Timmy with his arm around her waist), make their way upstairs._

_ Finally, after they release the twenty-pound bag, they collapse, Tootie leaning against Timmy. She closes her eyes, enjoying it. In fact, she doesn't dare to move, disturbing him and her chances of remaining like this._

_ "Tootie?" Timmy murmurs, still recuperating. Slightly, she swivels her head to regard him. Even just lying here makes her heart skip beats._

_ "Yeah?" Tootie whispers, afraid to break the serenity newly settled upon them. His hand reaches for the bag but brushes hers instead. There's a spark and he jumps, startled._

Don't go…_Opening her eyes, she glances at him, mouth agape. He can't seem to get over the fact that, when he touched her, there was a spark. She can tell he's writing it off as static electricity, but he can't hold that opinion forever._

_ "Is that witch your sister?" Timmy inquires, leaning heavily against the door. The nervous way he places his hair behind his ear is cute, but also odd. It's almost as though she can see his heart beat faster._

_ "Yes…"_

(In the present)

"Grr, I can't believe that witch is your sister!" Timmy snapped, leaning against the door again, only this time it was to keep her and her rabid dog out. Lately, he'd gotten better at ignoring his reactions to her, to the point where he'd convinced himself she was a creepy little girl barely worthy of his time. Therefore, he assumed the tingles he received when he touched her were because he was frightened of her.

"Tell that to my parents," Tootie muttered, helping. Her hand brushed his and he jumped again. This time, however, she wasn't going to let him get away.

Yanking him back before he had the chance to bolt, she pressed her lips against his. Despite whatever others might think, this was really the first time she'd kissed him on the lips. Every other time, it was on the cheek, sometimes on the ear if she missed, but never on the lips. She hadn't dared.

At first, he was too stunned to react. She felt him push her off but she wrapped her arms around his neck, semi pinning him there. She knew he liked it and he was going to liplock with her until he realized it.

Lightly, she felt his lips push against hers, kissing her back. He drew his arms around her waist and they fell away from the door. Big mistake.

"Good evening twerp and twerpette!" Vicky cackled, twirling a mop in her hands. Tootie broke the kiss, afraid of what it might spell for them if she knew what they'd done.

"I've got news for you! Chores are in this season! Get up and getting mopping!" Throwing the mop at Tootie, she produced a bucket and sponge out of nowhere for Timmy and he nearly fell over from the force. Tootie gazed over at him and he went scarlet, standing quickly and darting out the door.

"What are you waiting for?" Vicky snapped at her younger sibling. "Get mopping or else!"

Instead of doing so, she stared blankly at the wall, recalling Timmy's lips against hers. God, he always did this, recognized that he was attracted to her and then denied it.

_(Back to that day, five years ago)_

_ Tootie knows Timmy likes Trixie. That's why he's so mean to her, the unpopular pigtailed loser that she was. But he only likes Trixie because she's pretty and popular. _

_ She knows she can't compete as far as looks and charm. Nevertheless, she'll try. Because, no matter what, she knows the way Timmy looks at Trixie is not the same way Timmy looks at her. Or rather, how he barely looks at her._

_ She's noticed he doesn't like to make eye contact. Although he doesn't apologize for his rude and often cruel behavior, she's heard from other sources, mostly the blackmailed friends of Vicky, that a boy may be nasty to get a girl's attention. While she isn't sure this is the case here, she'd like to believe it is and so she does._

_ It's hard to disguise the way he looks when he _does _look at her. Her heart skips beats and she rather likes the breathless feeling she gets from him. _

_ Right now, he's sitting on her bed, bored out of his mind. He won't talk to her, make eye contact with her, or even touch her. She guesses that the trip up the stairs might have stunned him into submission._

_ It's hard to say now, but she thinks that Timmy might be deluding himself, trying to fall for the pretty girl when the one he likes is right under his nose. She's much closer than he thinks._

_ Deciding for now not to inform of this, she retrieves a game of Chutes and Ladders and they play late into the night, until, drained, they fall asleep on one another's shoulders._

(The present)

The night was much more exhausting than they thought. By the time they were done (mopping, scrubbing everything scrubbable, Timmy never wanted to see a sponge again), they were ready to collapse and Timmy was far too tired to return to the guest room. Instead, he settled down on her bed again, not meeting her eyes.

"You kissed me," Tootie said softly, leaning against him. Heart pounding again, she dared herself to run her fingers through his hair. Currently, he was too tired to fight her.

"You didn't leave me a choice!" Timmy snapped back, reaching his hand up to remove hers but rested it atop instead. Darn it- he was attracted to Trixie, wasn't he? He liked her, not Tootie. But then, why had he kissed her back?

"Yes, I did. You didn't have to kiss me back." Joints groaning in protest, she pulled his head up slightly so she could kiss his cheek. His face went scarlet.

"I…" This time, when he pulled away from her, he fell off the bed. She gazed down at him and smirked. Humans had a way of ignoring magic when it was staring them right in the face, whether it was the magic of sorcery or of love.

Forcing his legs to move, he darted out the door and down the stairs. She heard Vicky scream at him and threaten bodily harm, but he still vanished into the night. Of course, she went after him, but by the time she reached her own door, Vicky had locked it and the window was already sealed.

(Two months later)

Two months had passed and Timmy barely spoke to her, even in passing. She had the sense he was trying to repress the memory of their kiss, ignore it because it disturbed him. She wished she could get him to realize that it was nothing bad…

The last time she saw him was making another outrageous pass at Trixie Tang during the summer, only this time…it wasn't as outrageous because…she was now his girlfriend.


	6. Delicate Dolls and the Lies They Conceal

Author's Note: This ties in with the second chapter, not finished as of yet, of "Reflections in a Shallow Pool". Enjoy, I guess. Oh, and thanks to all my reviewers!

Disclaimer: Can't we get past this part? Yeesh, I don't own it! Leave me alone! (smiles) Because the idea of being sued is not a pleasant one.

Chapter Six: Delicate Dolls and the Lies They Conceal

She loved dolls. They were perfect, like she couldn't be. No glasses, no homicidal older sister, no commitment phobic lover, they were just themselves. Sure, they were rather superficial in that they had the perfect bust and weren't anatomically correct, but they were dolls. Who cared?

One of her dolls, one she most cherished, was a replication of Timmy. She'd made it herself, laboring for hours upon hours to stitch it flawlessly. Like her shrine, she was prepared to guard it with her life. And, unlike the real Timmy, this one wouldn't head for hills if she kissed him, er, it.

The house was quiet and she savored it. No Vicky to scream at her, she was off screaming at some other unsuspecting kid. Tootie felt sorry for them, but not sorry enough to deliver them from their misery. Wherever Vicky was, here was where she wasn't and that was good enough for her.

Tenderly, she smoothed back the actual Timmy hair on the doll. A bitter smile arose just recalling how she'd gotten it.

_(Five years ago, February 14th, a.k.a. Valentine's Day, Arts and Crafts)_

_ Carefully, she mends a tear in her doll's lining. She knows she'd go nuts if the doll she'd fabricated out of love is shredded…or worse, if Vicky gets her grubby little mitts on it. As a matter of fact, until it's done, she won't bring it home, to lessen that chance._

_ Her doll is nearly complete, except for one minor detail- hair. The teacher, a kindly woman who takes immediately to Tootie despite her sister's infamy, decides to aid her in the very difficult task she has set for herself. It is, after all, quite admirable for a five year to attempt to make any sort of doll, much less one that is clearly imitating an actual person. She offers Tootie brown yarn, but she will have none of it. If she can't have the real Timmy, perhaps she can have his locks at the very least._

_ So, like a hawk, Tootie surveys the room, keeping an eye out for her beloved. Around, children chatter as they are wont to do, some about their interests and some, in the case of Trixie Tang, about makeup. Tootie wrinkles her nose and ignores her- what use has a five year for makeup? Jeez, she's way too young to be thinking about such things, anyway._

_ In the far back of the room, removed from her, are Timmy, __Chester__, A.J., and a new kid with a boil, Elmer. She'd approach instantly, but that boil keeps her at bay. God, what the heck is that thing, anyway? It's putrescent and positively dripping with phlegm. Gross._

_ Twiddling her scissors on her finger, she waits for Timmy to retrieve his paint for the macaroni sculpture he's creating of a fairy. She smiles; his obsession with the mythological is amusing. There are no such things as fairies, never were. But it's always nice to dream._

_ Speaking of dreaming, if she doesn't focus now, she's going to miss her narrow opportunity. The teacher is talking to her kindergarten teacher (her fists ball at the thought, the witch didn't even apologize for leaving her behind!), so she won't notice a little commotion. Now, just stretch out the hand with the blades and…_

_ Miss horrendously. Instead of trendily chopping off of a lock, it falls short of him and slices the air. Oh, but she needs his hair! The doll just won't be the same without it!_

_ Casting aside the woefully inadequate lefty scissors, she reaches out and grabs a clump of Timmy's hair…still attached to Timmy. Obviously, he isn't terribly pleased with this development._

_ Shrieking, Timmy fights to extract her and the now tearing bit of hair. She's torn between letting go so his pain is ended swiftly and the tantalizing lock, slowly worming its way out of his scalp. Ultimately, she cannot choose and A.J. and __Chester__, arriving upon the scene, only make it worse._

_ Grabbing the two children, they yank them apart only for Timmy's hair to be ripped away into Tootie's fist. For the rape of a lock, the battle was won. _

_ "I got it!" She cheers, brandishing her fist and waving it about. There is utter silence as everyone stares at her, dumbfounded. Timmy rubs his sore head, wondering just what's wrong with her. _

_ Placing it just so on her doll, she pastes it on and now has a complete replica of her precious Timmy. It's soft to the touch, too. And, if it's possible, she loves it just as much._

(Present day)

_I may love him, but I can't believe he ran away like that,_ Tootie thought, unconsciously pounding the plush version of her beloved. Every time her hand did, it rebounded. It was almost enjoyable, in a vague sort of way.

Sitting astride the bed, she watched the window warily. She never knew who could come down here, a fellow bitch or the supreme one herself, so it was best to be vigilant. And, oh, look, she was right. It was a fellow bitch.

Pasting a fake smile on her face and waving at her like her hand was going to fall off if she didn't stop, Trixie Tang beamed at her from her front lawn. The sight disgusted her- she was up to no good and killing grass to boot. Grr…she didn't want to know what she was doing there.

Narrowing her eyes, Tootie shut the blinds after carefully situating her Timmy doll on her bed. She realized Trixie could see it, but she could really care less. As long as Trixie left her the hell alone, she really didn't mind what she thought. Well, on the other condition that it wasn't about Timmy.

Sighing, she returned to her 'play', which actually involved her berating the doll endlessly about why he'd done what he'd done and when he planned on facing the facts. Shaking the doll, punching it, squeezing its plush arms, these were all part of the interrogations. Wow, if she didn't watch it, she'd turn into Vicky; an even more unpleasant prospect than tearing out his hair must have been for Timmy.

"Oh, Tootie?" _Oh, go have fun with a monkey_, she thought, flinging the doll into the wall. It slid down, right into her wastebasket. No! She hadn't meant to throw it there!

Dashing fervently, she plunged her hand deep within the cockles of the trash, only to have her hand stuck in the basket. Darn Vicky must have lined her bag with gum or something, and now both she and the doll were stuck. She wished she could get it back, but she didn't even know where to start.

"This is about Timmy, you know, your beloved." Grand, now that she really did need to hear this and claw the girl's eyes out, she couldn't get her hand out of the basket. Well, she'd just have to face her like this. She couldn't make her life worse, could she?

The only thing that could make it worse was the possibility that Timmy abandoned her completely and went with Trixie. But that would never happen, would it? Because deep down, Timmy loved her, didn't he?

Drawing back the curtains, Tootie clung to them and inquired, guarded, "What about Timmy?" _What did you to do him?_

"I just wanted to let you know, the instant I place this button on his shirt, you can give up." From her vantage point, she saw Trixie fiddle with something behind her back. Her heart began to descend into her stomach.

_No…I heard about that pin. She gave it to Timmy last time and he magically became her boyfriend. God, I hope it's not what I think it is. I can't believe he'd run off and then hook up with her behind my back!_

_ He's not that cold, that heartless. That's a Ricky thing to do, that jerk that hung around for a month or so and made my life a living hell. Wonder where he came from, anyway._

_ I wish I knew where Timmy was. He doesn't even return my calls, or answer me when I throw rocks at his window. I might have broken his window doing that…hope his parents didn't notice._

Feigning ignorance, she politely (while gritting her teeth) replied, "What button would that be?"

"The one that claims him as my property," Trixie snapped back, inducing a wince out of her. Property? Well, that was a fine way to think of a boy, much less her Timmy. What gave her the right to do such a thing to her baby? Where did she get off thinking it was okay to treat people like that?

Especially Timmy. Timmy was not something to own, he was a treasure, for the world to enjoy. A rare delicacy, like sushi or shrimp. A mouth watering oddity, like pineapples that tasted like tuna. He was Timmy Turner, her beloved, not a rich girl's plaything.

"He's not a trademark or a piece of merchandise. You can't own him," Tootie said obstinately, fighting a losing battle.

"Says who, little girl?" Trixie sneered, folding her arms across her chest and holding the pin in front of her. "_I _can and will own him. Just because _you_ don't have the beauty and brains to even try doesn't mean it's not hopeless for the girl of his dreams."

_Just because everything is handed to you on a silver plate doesn't mean you deserve any of it. You think you can just walk around and pick people off the selves, regardless of their feelings and who they like. Money isn't everything._

_ And don't even get me started on brains and beauty. First off, if there's anything in that shallow little head of yours, I'll throw out my shrine. You don't need to think, you have 'people to do it for you'. Just the thought makes me sick._

_ Just because I'm not beautiful doesn't mean I don't have other things going for me. Besides, beauty is only skin deep. If you have nothing to show for it, you're not worth knowing. Why doesn't Timmy see that?_

"I'm the same age as you," Tootie retorted, growing irritated as well. She longed to spit on her head, no, strike that. She longed to drop an anvil on her head, only she knew this was no cartoon. It was real life and she'd really get hurt.

"Perhaps biologically, but physically and mentally? You're still a little girl, playing with dolls. Now, if you don't mind, I'm off to my date with Timmy. Have fun with your doll, that's all you're going to have of him.

"Maybe if you're lucky, he'll give you a kiss!" Cackling, Trixie flung up a note and a stickie attached to it, both of which Tootie scarcely caught. If she were a few inches off, she'd have fallen out the window. Trixie would have gotten a laugh out of it, at any rate.

Before long, she was gone and Tootie opened the letter. It was a plea from Timmy, a recent one too, and it made her blood boil. She crumpled it up and, yanking the can off, shoved it in.

The doll was still stuck, but she left it there. The stickie intrigued her and so she read it first, before extracting the doll.

**Dear Tootie,**

** I guess you learned how far obsession will really get you. When you're dying alone and I'm married to Timmy, I'll think of you while I'm laughing my head off.**

** The race wasn't even called and I won. I guess I'm just the pick of the litter, top of the class, the number one. You're the ugly little brat that'll never amount to anything as long as you live.**

** I hope you enjoy solitude, because it's not ending any time soon. **

**Trixie Tang**

**P.S. Don't bother trying to get Timmy back or else.**

Sinking to the floor, Tootie extracted the doll and clutched it to her chest, tears streaming down her face. _No…_


	7. Truly, Badly, Deeply

Author's Note: All right, thanks reviewers. And that's basically it. I have a headache.

Disclaimer: For the love of God, don't sue me! In other words, I don't own FOP.

Chapter Seven: Truly, Badly, Deeply

For the first hour, all she did was bury her head in her pillow and cry. All right, so her hand was still wedged inside the trash can, she could clearly care less. The only thing that mattered was the loss of Timmy, who, as far as she was concerned, sold out.

She wanted to act as though this didn't matter, that her beloved had just 'hooked up' with the girl who had managed to make her life miserable inside school and vie with Vicky for just a miserable existence. She wanted to, badly, and she would, if she could, but she wasn't strong enough. Instead, she bawled her eyes out, punching pillows and generally despising everything she came in contact with.

Unfortunately, predictably, this included Vicky. Enraged for no apparent reason (Tootie suspected PMS, but, then again, she could be suffering from it everyday and she wouldn't know it), she lunged at the doorknob, only to find it locked. A chainsaw sounded from behind it and Tootie jumped off her bed and rushed to hide into the closet. She was petrified Vicky would use it on her, even if she had no proof.

Shielding her eyes, she buried her head in her pillow again, only for a more practical purpose. If Vicky was sawing down her door, where were the chips going to go? Right in her eyes if she didn't watch it. You didn't grow up with Vicky without learning a thing or two.

Tossing the saw aside carelessly (it cascaded into a stack of stuffed animals, all cut up because the saw hadn't stopped running until it sliced through half of them), Vicky crossed quickly over to Tootie's bed and lorded above her. Oh, no, this was no good. If she was hesitating before attacking, she was up to something. God, she hated being on the defensive all the time.

When Vicky tapped her on the shoulder, she half expected her to have a knife in her hands, to chop her to ribbons. Instead, she was unpleasantly surprised to see her older sister beam at her, in her hands another relic of the past, a rope made painstakingly when she'd sought a way to get out without attracting her sister's notice. So maybe she was wrong, she wasn't going to gut her, she was going to strangle her.

"I heard the twerp traded up," Vicky snickered, settling down on her bed. Her fingers lovingly traced the outline of the rope, making Tootie shudder.

"That's none of your business," Tootie snapped back, unconsciously folding her arms across her chest protectively. You never know, this time Vicky might go for the heart.

"Oh, I'm not going to _hurt _you," Vicky crooned, flexing the rope. She could tell she itched to stretch it around her neck.

Eyes sparkling dangerous, Vicky strode over to the basket and tore it off her sister's hand. Tootie yelped in pain, but the redhead ignored her. The prize was within her hand.

All but breaking her fingers, she extracted the Timmy doll and pretended to scrutinize it anew, when she knew damn well she'd seen it at least once before. God, and that once had been enough for a lifetime…

----------------

(Five years ago, February 14th, 4:45 p.m.)

_Tootie thinks she's safe because Vicky's off terrorizing, she means, babysitting. In her hands is her hard wrought prize, the Timmy doll. She strokes his hair absently, pangs of guilt wracking her for tearing his hair out of his head. Then again, what was she supposed to? She wasn't taught any better._

_ For a brief second, she pictures sitting in Timmy's lap and he stroking her hair just as she's doing to the doll. The thought fills her with delight, and she grins to herself. _

_ Momentarily, she sits in the middle of the living room, watching Tiny Toon Adventures but not really paying much attention to the antics of Babs, Buster, and Plucky. Although this is her favorite show, thoughts of Timmy and her recent actions compel her to inattentiveness._

_Her mother works cheerily in the kitchen, both she and the house glad for the brief respite from her terrible daughter. Every once in a while, she pops her head in to check on Tootie, whom she's neglected recently. As soon as her housework is done, she swears she's going to show the poor girl some affection. After all, it's she who bares the brunt of Vicky's hatred, and everyone knows it._

_ Finishing with a hum, her mother walks out to the living room and beams at the only daughter she has who isn't life threatening to be around. Tootie spins around, surprised but not displeased to see her there. She yearns for any type of affection, be it from Timmy or her parents._

_ "What are you watching, sweetie?" Her mother queries, sitting down next to her on the floor. Her eyes fall upon the doll, whose hair looks strikingly familiar. She didn't…she couldn't have…_

_ "Jus' a cartoon," Tootie murmurs, glancing up at her. Her eyes are full of regret and remorse, two things her mother never wanted to see in them. She must have done what she thinks she did._

_ Hugging her tightly, she strokes her hair. Her baby…_

_ However, just as Tootie is on the verge of confessing, Vicky bursts in, throwing her bag right at Tootie's head. Her mother holds up her hand, just barely halting it. Apparently, it's gotten to the point where she doesn't care who gets hurt, as long as she can strike out._

_ Sensing possible hostility, her meek mother releases her and vanishes up the stairs, to her room. Grand, she's alone again, just like before. She can always trust her mother…to flee the scene._

_ "Move over, shrimp, and get out of my way," Vicky growls, picking up her bag only to dump its contents on her. Tootie falls over, weighted down by her texts, notebooks, and some odd weapons. _

_ "No." She doesn't know what compels her to repudiate her sibling's authority like that with such haughtiness, but she does. Casting the volumes to the side, she glowers at her, building herself up with all her terrible five year old might._

_ "What do you mean, 'no'?" The imperious girl asked, bending down to retrieve her books and hold them threatening above her head._

_ "I…I mean…shove off, Vicky!" Anger she never knew bubbles to the surface, resentment for driving the only possible affection she might get for a long time and ruining her otherwise enjoyable afternoon. She's sick of being ordered around, especially when her mother doesn't even stick up for her._

_ "Wrong answer!" Glowering at her, she draws her leg back and kicks her into the cabinet. Tootie slams into it hard and winces at the pain shooting up and down her back. _

_ Unfortunately, when she kicked her, she dropped the Timmy doll, an oddity Vicky soon picks up. In her sibling's greedy eyes, she can see malice sparkling. No…the worst thing in the world right now is for her sister to procure that doll!_

_ "What's this, I wonder?" She croons, twisting in her hand. God, she'd love to rip its head off right in front of her, throw it in her face. But she has to set the mood first._

_ "Please…don't…" Tootie whimpers, knowing damn well she will. She can't help but protest, in the desperate hopes she'll relent. _

_ Grinning widely, she examines the hair on the doll's head. She too notices its striking resemblance to Timmy's hair. So her little sister is a psycho. No surprise there._

_ Vicky sniggers, placing a foot on her chest. Tootie, who was about to rise, struggles to free herself._

_ "You tore this off his head! And now, I'll tear it off the doll's head, along with his legs, arms, and silly pink hat!" _

_Breath caught in her throat, Tootie's eyes widen in fear and she makes one desperate attempt to free herself and the doll. Every time she moves upwards, though, her foot grows steadily closer to her throat. The idea here would be to stop struggling…or else._

_However, just as she's about to decapitate her doll, her father walks into the house. Tootie almost cries in relief, but she can't. She can't breathe._

_"Tootie!" For a brief second, Tootie's father is more concerned with his younger daughter's well-being than the fear he holds for his eldest. And, in this moment, Vicky draws back, startled and caught off guard._

_Tootie chokes, oxygen rushing to her lungs too quickly for her to properly receive. Vicky glowers at both of them, ripping the head off her doll and flinging it in her sibling's open mouth. Her father bends deftly, preventing it from clogging her windpipe._

_From the stairs, Vicky glares. Her arms are folded across her chest; she radiates malevolence and hatred. Once again, she's been foiled and her sister's death prevented. Okay, she doesn't want her dead; she just doesn't want her living anymore. _

_Kneeling, he pats her on the back to ensure she intakes her air correctly and then hugs her. By now, she can do little more than cling to him. _

_"You'll pay for this, you bastard," Vicky spits, throwing the rest of the doll her way. "I'll get both of you, especially _you, _you little brat!"_

_With those words, she darts up the stairs and into her room. There is utter silence, broken only by the sound of Tootie's rasping. The world spins around her._

_"Are you all right?" Her father inquires, still cradling her. All she can do is nod, surprised he stuck up for her and even more surprised he cares for her. Of course, she knows he does, but it's hard to tell sometimes._

_"The doll…" She breathes, biting her lip._

_"Can be repaired. You cannot." Smiling, he releases her and her face falls. She feels protected in his arms, safe from Vicky._

_Shaking his head at nothing in particular, he strides up the stairs, to check on his wife. He tiptoes past Vicky's room, terrified of what she'll do to him. The fear has returned._

_Gathering up the pieces, Tootie cradles them to her chest and walks up the stairs, but, unfortunately, she has not yet learned how to do so silently. Vicky hears her and sticks her head out her door._

_"I'll kill you." _

_These three words petrify Tootie and she runs to her room, her face blanched. From a distance, she hears Vicky cackle and shudders. Although she's been told many times that Vicky will kill her, she knows Vicky couldn't do that. She isn't that evil, is she?_

_Is she?_

--------------------------

(Present day)

Vicky left her room after a few more threats. Every word reminded her of the death threats she heard when she was little, words that terrified her still. No matter how hard Timmy worked against her, Tootie could never abandon her fear long enough to fight. She just wasn't strong enough.

But she had to do something to get her Timmy back. Would apologizing for everything she did work? What about throwing herself at his mercy? Could that make the difference?

Shutting her eyes tightly, she recalled his lips on hers and wished to whomever might be up there, for it to happen again.


	8. Happy Valentine's Day, Tootie

Disclaimer: I'm not really in the mood for this, but…I don't own it, no kidding.

Chapter Eight: Happy Valentine's Day, Tootie

It was too late for her to veto it; the time had come and gone already. All she could do was sit idly by, watching Trixie's limo pass by and drop Timmy off. She wanted, for his sake, for the date to be enjoyable, but, selfishly, she really desired it to be a miserable wreck.

One thing was for certain- she was never leaving her room again. If she was going to be miserable, she might as well be within her shrine, dreaming of the things that could and would never be. Vicky was right- she'd die pining for him.

Hmph, there was something she never thought she'd admit- Vicky was right. However, if she were right about that, it led to a whole arena of ideas she might have been right about, but those were unbearable to think. Thoughts were a dangerous thing, when you were all alone and no one was there to correct you.

Briefly, she remembered Crocker, ranting against fairies in general. She knew, for an absolute fact, fairies did not and could not exist. There was nothing in the world that looked out for you and if you were screwed as a child, you were just screwed. No magical force was going to scoop you up and tell you they loved you and everything was going to be okay.

She wished her parents would tell her that once in a while. For years, under Vicky's tyranny, they'd essentially ceased speaking, fearful of even telling Tootie 'good morning'. They became nobodies in their own house, powerless against her.

That was why Tootie was 'spoiled'. Every word left unsaid, every action left undone, was met with lavish 'gifts'. She didn't want them, however, and they remained on the floor, collecting dust. She was not one of those children whose happiness and love could be bought.

For years, she'd lived under the impression it was wrong to be happy. No one around her was, not her parents, hiding from their eldest daughter, or Vicky for reasons only she knew, and definitely not her for being treated like something that deserved to be aborted. Whatever occurred outside her home was strange and, while she hesitated to say frightening because she lived with fear every day, it was shockingly different.

Timmy was nice to her on occasions. She wanted him to always be nice to her, but she knew she couldn't ask for miracles. No one could stand being around her long enough to treat her like a human being.

Maybe that was what it was. Timmy'd watched too many science fiction movies and thought she was an alien, therefore, if he kissed her, she'd run away or something. Okay, so that didn't make any sense whatsoever, but she had nothing to work with.

He was outside now, talking to his oddly colored dogs and almost trembling with anger. She wondered why he could possibly be angry if everything had gone well. Trixie was a slut; she'd probably already kissed him, if not more. Tootie didn't see any reason for him to be upset, unless they'd gotten caught.

The sensation of capture and its consequent imprisonment was not a foreign concept to her by any means. In fact, it developed to the point where, before she committed the crime, she was punished. Vicky was of the impression her birth was a capital offense, so she'd decided to keep her from living her life…period.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs and she mused inwardly if it meant her parents were home. What difference did it make if they were? She couldn't talk to them; she didn't even have weird pink and green dogs to talk to. At least his dogs gave the semblance of understanding, her parents never did. They just lived from day to day, never mind that their youngest daughter got the lit end of the candle.

It wasn't that they hadn't tried to unite the family, they had. It'd just been an unmitigated disaster.

-----------------

(Still February 14th, 5 years ago, 6:45 p.m.)

_"We're going out," Tootie's father says, his arms wrapped around his wife. He's decided to treat his daughters to an Italian feast at Il Maestro, a new restaurant in town. Perhaps if Vicky's spoiled a bit, it'll make her a little less down on the family, Tootie specifically._

_ Tootie stares blankly- in her short life, she's never gone out, not even on her birthday. Or perhaps she ought to say, especially on her birthday. Her birthday is a curse never to be uttered in that house, as though saying "Happy Birthday Tootie" might cause the birds to drop from the sky and murder Vicky in her sleep._

_ Her parents say that maybe, when she's ten, they'll try it. That is, if Vicky promises not to slaughter her sister in those five years. Tootie has her reservations on that one._

_ Vicky, seemingly always on the stairs, yet again glowers at her sister. She does not want her to accompany them, she'd rather she stayed at home and starved. She wants to monopolize her parents, return to the way things were before she was beaten and left for dead. Maybe if Tootie were beaten and left for dead, she'd take the hint and just drop dead._

_ Uncertainly, her mother surveys the two. Tootie's exuberance has faded in the light of her sister's glare and she reaches cautiously for the remote, afraid if she does take it, Vicky will jump from the stairs to land on her hand. She wishes her eldest would be a mite kinder to her sister- dwelling in all the fear couldn't be healthy for her._

_ "I…maybe you guys should just go out," Tootie murmurs, feeling Vicky's scrutiny. Vicky takes a few threatening steps forward, causing the bespeckled girl to take a few back. A fight brews._

_ "You're part of the family too," Her father says softly and, dressed in a suit and a tie, bends down to scoop her up. Vicky glowers at him too._

_ "She isn't part of the family. She's a mistake. You should have never had her; once you knew you were pregnant, you should have killed her," Vicky spits, pushing her father away. Oh, so kind Vicky is._

_ "Don't say that about your sister!" Tootie's mother scolds, but remains where she is. She's brave enough to battle her aloud, but not physically._

_ "And don't talk out of turn!" Vicky screams, pivoting on her. She withdraws, her hands shaking._

_ "I can see I'm not wanted…" Tootie whispers. _Now or ever._ "You guys, go out, have fun…I'll just sit here…"_

_ "Absolutely not!" Her father snaps, once again returning to scoop her up. This time, Vicky gets a little more aggressive, karate chopping her father's arms and kicking Tootie in the stomach._

_ "She will sit here. You will not take her with you because she's a mistake and you know what people do with mistakes? They throw them out! Go live in the trash, brat!" Vicky screams, and Tootie's eyes fill up with tears. It's taking all her ability not to bawl in front of her and give her another impetus._

_ "Please, just for one night, can't you two stop it?" Her father murmurs. _

_ "I will if she dies," Vicky snaps viciously and Tootie's chest heaves with unshed tears._

_ "If you don't leave your younger sister alone, you're not going anywhere."_

_ "Make me," Vicky says coldly. She bends down and picks Tootie up only to wrench her arm behind her back. Tootie yelps in pain._

_ "Stop!" Their mother screams, sobbing. Her legs take a few shaky steps forward and she nearly collapses on them, but she arrives at the scene of her daughters. Both peer up at her, Vicky frankly astonished she's daring to override her._

_ "We…we will have a nice evening and…and you'll stop hurting her for things she can't control…because they aren't her fault…" Her mother stammers, not meeting Vicky's eyes. But she knows she must, in order to make her meaning clear, so she does._

_ To their amazement, Vicky says nothing at all. She stomps up the stairs, vanishing into her room to get changed. Tootie would follow, but she knows what time alone with her will bring. _

_ For over ten minutes, naught a word is spoken. Tootie's mother, overwhelmed by the struggle against Vicky, settles down on the sofa. Her husband joins her, stroking her hair and pressing her against his chest. Tootie says nothing but strays her eyes from them. According to Vicky, no one wants her looking at anyone, much less someone who doesn't belong to her._

_ In the Vicky philosophy, Tootie is a mistake. Therefore, her actions are all damned, filthy things and, once she commits them, she ruins anything for anyone else. That's why her parents don't defend her, because they soil themselves by doing so. She's cursed to kill everything in sight; if not physically than spiritually._

_ Tootie isn't certain she ascribes to the Vicky philosophy. She doesn't want to; it stings her to hear, but she has nothing else. No one tells her they like her, no one wants to be around her, the only thing in the world she has is Timmy. And Timmy, of course, wants nothing to do with her either._

_ The only reason she doesn't give up on him is he is her only hope. If she can start a life with him when she gets older and he can defend her, she can escape Vicky and the hell she's created. She can be held and cradled and he'll kiss away her tears. He'll care about her…someone has to. She doesn't want to believe everyone hates her._

_ Vicky, suitably dressed in an orange sunflower dress and her Sunday best, stomps back down the stairs. Her eyes, as usual, contain the rage and anger she's always had, in Tootie's experience. However, she refrains from pounding on Tootie when she reaches the ground floor and merely stands there, waiting for her parents to tell her the good news- Tootie, at long last, is returning to the hospital._

_ Tootie whimpers, clinging to her mother. Hesitantly, she raises an arm to stroke her hair, but she drops it hurriedly- Vicky does not wish her to touch her, so she won't. At least she hasn't screamed at her again._

_ "Shall we go?" Their father says cordially, eyeing Vicky warily. Causally flipping Tootie the bird, she smirks at him and nods. She'll go…and, for the sake of being with her parents, she'll be good. Besides, they can always abandon her in an alley, right?_

_ They pile into the family car, Vicky screeching about when she'll be able to drive, she'll drive so fast, the pavement will peel. Neither parent doubts this, they just don't want to be in the sedan when it_

_happens. _

_ Tootie, making little noise and pretending she doesn't exist to appease Vicky, flings herself in the backseat. She quickly belts herself in and waits for her mother to join her. After all, the royal heinous must sit in the front, if she cannot drive yet._

_ Vicky slams herself in, immediately changing the radio station to a station she likes. Ironically enough, it's actually a half decent station and, while they do not say as much lest she change it just to spite them, the music is fairly pleasant. Perhaps this outgoing won't be as disastrous as they thought._

_ Il Maestro is only a stone's throw away from their house. It's the grand opening and many Dimmsdale patrons await its unveiling agitatedly, muttering to themselves about deadlines and company dinners. Tootie and her family hold back, knowing they have a reservation but also knowing they won't be called any time soon._

_ The Turners saddle up next to them, Mr. and Mrs. Turner grinning at her parents. They smile weakly back, aware of their short leash. Any time they do meet, it's always very forced._

_ Timmy glances at Tootie and instantly takes a few steps back. She can see the bit of scalp bereft due to her pillaging and she winces. Now that she looks at it, she feels rather awful._

_ "Isn't this great? Look at all the wonderful prices!" Mr. Turner gushes, but Tootie ignores him. She walks up to Timmy, who keeps retreating, and grabs his arm._

_ "Timmy…I'm sorry that I ripped your hair out before…" She murmurs sheepishly, knowing an apology really isn't the right procedure but just playing it by ear. His reaction is to yank his arm away from her hand and stand a little closer to his parents._

_ Vicky, bored with all the pleasantry, begins to wander. She offers her services to parents, whose children imminently cling to them. Of course, she can smell the fear and she grins, feral. Fortunately, their parents take it for enthusiasm and reassure they will indeed call._

_ It takes a good hour to be admitted, but Tootie's awed by what she sees. Half of Dimmsdale is present, including a scrawny man with a nervous tick and a hang up about fairy godparents, a rotund woman who shakes her head at him and wishes she had a better date, and a newscaster that can't stop shouting. She giggles- she's almost as tall as he is. _

_ "Stupid cell phone radiation."_

_ The waiters bust their humps to get a menu to everyone, and Vicky doesn't really help, threatening to make their lives a living hell unless she gets her meal as soon as she orders it. Timmy's parents find it endearing- Tootie finds them stupid, but she says nothing to the effect. Timmy might not enjoy the commentary._

_ Luckily, Vicky presents no trouble for anyone. When the waiter does in fact come to take their order, she places it maturely and sedately, causing her parents' eyebrows to raise. Tootie breathes a sigh of relief- tonight might be the first half decent night in a long time._

_ Finishing it up, he asks Tootie, "And what'll it be for the cutie pie?" _

_ Tootie goes scarlet before realizing he's addressing her. She didn't know she was cute…really, no one ever told her. Naturally, due to Vicky, she assumed she was ugly._

_Vicky's eyes narrow but she says nothing. She doesn't wish to make a bad impression._

_"I…I'll have spaghetti and meatballs," She announces with a grin, bubbling over with enthusiasm._

_He vanishes and she turns to Timmy. The adults are talking quietly and Vicky, yet again, is proselytizing her new religion of believe the terrorist. So, she has Timmy all to herself._

_"Do you know what today is?" Tootie grins and kisses his cheek. Timmy withdraws, wiping it off._

_"It's Valentine's Day!" She choruses and almost falls off her chair trying to kiss him again._

_"I don't wanna be your valentine…" Timmy snaps. "I want Trixie Tang!"_

_Before she knows it, she bursts into tears; this was the straw that broke the camel's back. Her parents and Timmy's are too busy to notice and Vicky, quite thankfully, is off somewhere- so she is neither noticed nor picked on. Therefore, what else can she do but cry?_

_Timmy's at a loss. He doesn't know how to properly deal with crying females yet and won't for some time. Awkwardly, he draws his arms around her and she leans against him. This, of course, is when his parents turn back to look at them._

_"Aw, isn't that cute!" Mr. Turner exclaims, taking out his camera. "A precious moment from above!"_

_"It isn't-" Timmy begins and begins to try to extract her from him. She stoutly refuses to move._

_However, in honor of Valentine's Day, he becomes her valentine. That means she gets to feed him, kiss him on the cheek whenever she wants to, and sit on his lap. All in all, a great deal for a low, low price._

_And all Vicky can do is fume. She daren't make herself look bad in front of potential customers, she shall not talk out of turn or traumatize her sister, and she can just sit there quietly, glaring at the wall. In public, Vicky is polite and shut down._

_When the dinner and desert are done, Timmy walks her to the car, their parents smiling. Her fingers are entwined with his and she leans on him, causing him to trip into the nearest car. Ow…_

_Vicky takes up the rear, thoroughly pissed off. Her eyelids are falling though, and she won't be able to torture Tootie about this until tomorrow. She can just barely…yawn…_

_By the time they reach their car, parked ahead of the Turner's, Vicky has fallen asleep. Her father catches her, noting that the only time she's pleasant at all is when she's torturing herself in her dreams. In fact, she's smiling right now._

_ Tootie sighs happily and, for the rest of the night, into her dreams, she remembers Timmy holding her hand, letting her feed him, and kissing him. This is the best night she has, for a long, long, time…_

------------

(Present day)

_Before Trixie, things were simple, dammit. Okay, well, she was always there, but…he didn't have her to run to! _

Laying back on her stomach, Tootie moaned his name before forcing herself to fall asleep...at least, until Vicky did.

"Timmy…"


	9. Mal Appetite

Author's Note: As I have done with all my other stories, I apologize for the lateness of the chapter. Due to extenuating circumstances, I could not complete it sooner. Sorry.

Disclaimer: Although I can now watch it, I must proclaim I do not own it. Sorry to get your hopes up.

Chapter Nine: Mal Appetite

_Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess. She lived happily...and no one cared. Hmph, lucky her_.

Casting aside yet another fairy tale book (when she was little, she was rather attached to them), Tootie shuffled through her collection for one particular tale. She used to read it over and over when she was younger, and it was still a favorite. Now, if only she could locate it...

For once, her hair was out of pigtails, cascading down her front. She figured she'd rather minimize the chance of Vicky pulling on them tonight and opted to let them out instead. Besides, she did actually prefer her hair free, but she kept them that way to spite her.

Now, where was it? Could Vicky have taken it? No, unlikely, because she didn't know she had it....and she only removed what she felt would hurt her to lose. She was, after all, a bitch.

If she could find it, maybe she'd have a distraction enough so she wouldn't be tempted to find out what Timmy was so angry about and try to comfort him. Okay, she wasn't going to lie to herself- she wanted to do far more than comfort him. But he was Tang property now, practically branded with her seal of 'approval'. A little gnome would probably pop out and strangle her if she tried anything.

He'd long since gone into the house and hours had passed since the date. The sky was a brilliant black, with only a few stars to dispel the darkness. Good, this was how she liked it when she felt like falling apart. Nothing like the void to satiate you.

She'd ask herself what Tang had that she hadn't, but it was a lost cause. Trixie was beautiful, confident, and soft spoken. She was strident, ugly, and as confident as a turkey before the slaughterhouse. Looking at these factors, it was clear that Trixie was clearly the girl for him.

Besides, she also had Icky Vicky to contend with. Trixie couldn't boast of a sadistic older sister that made his life a living hell, and she didn't blame him for hating her on the basis of her sibling. Many a person had failed to come to her aid because her sister had terrorized them.

Still, she had to try to coerce him, didn't she? Once again, he was all she had. Trixie had her wealth, her slew of suitors, and her popularity. Tootie had a bunch of toys she didn't want, a sister who, if she didn't kill her sooner or later, would ensure her suicide, and two absentee parents who only came home long enough to tell Vicky what she wanted to hear and act like she didn't exist. There was nothing in her life that made her happy besides Timmy.

And she knew his life wasn't all that great either. His parents were never home, they were always gallivanting from one place to another and leaving him with her sister (but at least they weren't related and forced to dwell in the same house!), and...and...Good Lord. Aside from his parents and Vicky, what else was there that made him so miserable? Or was it just that he liked to focus on it or something? Yeesh.

One would think he'd have a little human decency to at least not lock in the closet when he saw her. She understood that boys at that age did not like ten-year-old girls stalking them, but that really didn't give him an excuse to do that. (Not to mention she'd spent nearly two days locked in there, since Vicky found it amusing she was there and her parents didn't want to cross Vicky to let her out- she'd had to pick the lock).

Now that she thought about it, he only treated people nicely when he wanted a favor out of them. That had to be the reason he was so nice to Trixie, because he wanted her as a girlfriend. He was so nice to his friends because he could ask favors of them, and what was she? She was just the creepy little girl from down the street.

You know what? Forget comforting him and maybe trying to convince him to dump Trixie. Through all of her angry pondering, she'd formulated an idea. Instead of being the nice, sweet girl he always stepped on, she'd give him a piece of her mind!

Well, she would, but first she had to concentrate on escaping without being noticed. She hadn't the foggiest idea if her sister were awake or not, and where she was in the house. So, basically, it was mission improbable.

Creeping along the walls, she was reminded of yet another time she snuck out, again for Timmy, but for a different purpose.

-----

(Five years ago, February 15th)

_She wants to run away, but to where? Who would take her in? She's just, as Vicky says, an ugly little brat. Therefore, she opts not to run away, but to spy instead._

_And who better to spy upon but her beloved Timmy? Right now, she's sure he's sitting down to dinner, a nice, formalized dinner with loving, doting parents. That would be the way he lives, without anxiety or trepidation. She envies him._

_If she were part of a normal family, she is sure they too would be masticating right now. However, her parents are gone, off to another business convention (which is quite peculiar, considering neither of them work in the business world- she suspects foul play), and Vicky is in charge. Unfortunately, if she gains any sustenance at all, it'll be due to foraging of her own and none of her sister's._

_Just looking at food makes her salivate. Her sister's eating a pizza (but none for her unless she wants a knuckle sandwich) and drinking what strongly resembles alcohol. She wrinkles her nose in distaste but says not a word, for fear of Vicky's vengeance. Besides, she isn't certain that's alcohol at all; perhaps she's jumping to conclusions, as she is wont to claim._

_Some drivel is on TV, a monster truck rally, and her sister cries exuberantly. Good, that means she won't notice if someone else happens to go missing, someone she'd rather went missing anyway. _

_Casting one last, wistful glance at her sister's pizza (she ordered the whole pizza for herself and made a point of eating, once again, by herself), Tootie slinks out, palms sweaty. If she's caught, she'll be in more trouble than she can ever imagine (that says something, because she has an extensive imagination). Never tempt the demon...never tickle a sleeping dragon._

_At long last, she's out the door and free, liberated. A chill wind picks up and she shivers, wishing she'd brought some sort of jacket with her. Alas, no, and the only one she has is in the house, a place she'd like to avoid returning to if she can. So she'll freeze, for a little while._

_Timmy's house, luckily, is a mere four houses down from her and a short walk. It fails to warm her, but this was not the reason to do so, and she doesn't mind. Anything, even freezing to death, is preferable to time with her icky sister._

They _are, she thinks when she glances into the window, _just sitting down to dinner_. Although she can't hear what they're saying, it seems as though it would be pleasant and perfect, just like him. This is a loving family- why can't she get one?_

_Pressing her face against the glass, she watches them eat and talk, almost in concord. Her breath rises on the glass and she swiftly wipes it away, only to discover Timmy's parents are no longer behind the glass. Where have they gone? Are they going to chase her away? Call her psycho for spying on them? Call the cops? Or, worse yet, are they going to get Vicky?  
_

_However, they do not appear to call the cops or her sister, so perhaps it's one of the other options, calling her psycho or chasing her away. Or maybe, just maybe, they have the shred of human decency Vicky does not possess and they will invite her in to have dinner with them. However, she isn't holding her breath for the second choice._

_"Are you hungry?" Mrs. Turner asks graciously, holding out a jacket of Timmy's for her. She takes it happily and decides never to part with it again. That jacket's going to get pretty funky, though, because she's not liable to take it off in this life._

_"Yeah, we have plenty of extra food!" Mr. Turner chirps, grinning. "Because my wife made too much!"_

_Glowering at her husband, "Mom" nods. "Do you want to come in?"_

_Ecstasy warms her and she hugs both them tightly. Naturally, she thanks them profusely, for some things that weren't within their control to begin with. It'd be amusing, if it weren't for her own home situation._

_"Thank you for inviting me in and thank for you being born and thank you for making your house so warm and-"Tootie rambles, hugging Mrs. Turner's legs so tightly she can't move._

_"That's wonderful, dear," She replies, not having heard a word of it. "Come in." _ And let go of me.

_Pressing the collar of his jacket into her nose and inhaling deeply, she reluctantly lets go and enters, trailing the Turners. Almost immediately, she covets Timmy for his munificent parents, what she deems a gorgeous house, and the status of an only child. Well, if Vicky inexplicably dropped off the edge of the earth, all her problems would be solved. Too bad fairies aren't real..._

_A fork clatters as Timmy rises to his feet. No way, no how is he to remain with miss yankie go lucky. He's not sure his scalp can endure such rough treatment, nor is he willing to find out. At least his room can provide a safe haven...that is, if his parents would allow him to go._

_"Now that we have company, we have to eat two dinners," Mr. Turner grins, lightly clapping his son on the back. (So much for surplus food, huh?) The weight causes him to sink down, slipping on a phonebook propping him up and nearly sliding beneath the dining room table. Escape is not an option anymore, apparently._

_Despite herself, she grins as well. Grins are notoriously infectious and she cannot help herself around her beloved Timmy. The world could collapse around her, but all she would notice was him. (Hey, if the world did collapse, did that meant Vicky would fall off the edge of the earth? Hmm...)_

_She selects a seat beside him and hones in. If she weren't afraid of being turned out as easily as she'd been invited in, she'd kiss him right now. She wants to badly, but abstains out of reverence for his parents._

_Mrs. Turner, with a sidelong glare at "Dad", places a plate in front of her. It's, coincidentally, her favorite dish- spaghetti and meatballs. However, to the side are the carrots and string beans, to complement the meal. To her, who hasn't eaten anything since she can't recall when, it's a feast. And, if she didn't keep glancing out the window to see if her psychotic sister loomed outside, she might be able to enjoy it._

_Cautiously, she begins to eat, Timmy's eyes burning into her. Fortunately, she's quite efficient at tuning people out, because she's certain he's complaining about this. He doesn't want her there, blah, blah, blah...until she catches the phrase "she can starve for all I care"._

_Tootie, grabbing the glass of water quickly, chokes down her meatball. Her face has gone crimson and her eyes fail to meet anyone else's. Maybe he has a point, like Vicky says. She'd be better off starving._

_"That's it, mister!" Mrs. Turner fumes, scooping her son up and placing him on the floor. "You can go to your room, no dessert!"_

_"Yeah, and think about what you said!" Mr. Turner adds, playing it by ear. Nodding, his wife smiles grimly, so at least he knows he didn't screw up. _

_"Fine! I don't wanna eat dinner with someone who pulls my hair out, anyway!" Timmy snaps, sticking his tongue out at her and blowing a raspberry. Her heart sinks to her stomach- he hates her. But she didn't mean to do it, it just sort of happened..._

_"I'm sorry!" Tootie gasps, forcing down the remnants of the meatball. "I needed extra hair for my Timmy doll and-"_

_Between the two parents, an indiscernible look passes. It's the kind of look that, if they were old enough to understand it, might frustrate them to no end. It's the "I know more than you" look, the ones kids loathe with a passion._

_"Sure she did," Mr. Turner smirks, disbelieving him immediately. For the rest of his life, he will regard anything his son says with an air of impatience and 'kids will be kids'. It's not that he doesn't care, just that he doesn't listen. _

_Scowling, Timmy, stomping up the stairs, mutters a few choice words under his breath but only Tootie catches it. She blanches, pushing away her meal. Suddenly, she's lost her appetite...he's right. She has no place here._

_"I...I think I'll be going," Tootie says quickly, casting the jacket aside. Her heart wrenches to do so, but at least that's one right thing she's done today. Maybe Vicky's right- the world would be better off if she just disappeared._

_"Without dessert?" Mrs. Turner inquires sweetly, casting a disparaging glance at her unruly son. Or, rather, her son's back, since he's promptly stomping up the stairs. _

_"Yeah." Nodding and thanking them again, she darts out of the room, out the door, and back to her house. As quickly as she's gone, they realize that, when they took their eyes off her, tears splattered on the napkin._

-------

Tears splattered down her front now. Before she knew it, her anger abated. True love, at least in her experience, meant forever forgiving wrongdoing, no matter how much heartbreak it caused her.

But Trixie Tang...how could she forgive that? Unless he truly preferred Trixie over her...and she didn't blame him. She was pretty, popular (a small voice whispers in her ear, _and a bitch_), everything a boy could want. Sure, she was shallow as hell, but what did Timmy care? He liked her for purely shallow reasons.

And, she guessed, if he was happier with her...she ought to back off. The tears blurred her vision utterly and she collapsed in Timmy's driveway. No...she needed him. She couldn't give up on him, no matter what. If she did...she'd be Vicky's slave...


	10. The Beginning of an Era

Author's Note: We return to Vicky again…

Disclaimer: Although I'm actually watching FOP as I type this, I don't own it. And that episode with Miss Dimmsdale is creepy…

Chapter Ten: The Beginning of an Era

Breathing hard, Vicky awoke from an unenchanted sleep, full of nightmares and unmentionable atrocities. Although she easily fell asleep, her dreams were not of the garden variety, tenderness and love....She wondered, at times, what normal people dreamed of. It couldn't be of their childhood trauma or murdering people by their own hands…

Tootie was asleep, or so she thought. Not a sound had come from her room, which could mean two things: (a), she'd succumbed to exhaustion due to the loss of Timmy, or, (b), she'd snuck out _again_. Ye Gods, she was so weary of her doing this, right under her nose. As soon as she came back, there'd be hell to pay, rest assured…unlike her.

Sighing heavily, her eyes fell upon a picture of she and Ricky. Odd, she could have sworn she'd thrown this out long ago…But maybe she wanted to keep it as a relic, a memory of when she thought someone really did like her for her, as stupid as that was. Now, of course, she knew how foolish that was, because no one would ever truly like her without trying to exploit her. Apparently, unwittingly, she attracted them, a truth she now knew to be painfully true.

Part of her still longed for the world of might have beens, where Tootie was never born, she was picked up from the park, and she wasn't notorious for causing kids pain and misery. If she weren't, she might stand a chance of picking up a man who deeply cared about her and her happiness, instead of one wallowing in misery. But would this version of her hate the only child version of her? Probably, considering the thought of benevolence made her want to retch.

Through the window, the wind kicked up and she shivered. Damn window- who the hell had opened it? She'd kick their ass…oh, wait, it was her. Heh, heh.

Beside her was a folder of exploits, all her parents'; she reached for it, taking solace in the fact that she could inflict pain upon them for ruining her life. Of course, they remained blissfully ignorant of what had merited such a change in her, as they should be. However, in the earlier years, it almost appeared as though they cared…

-------

(10 years ago, a month after Tootie's birth)

_"Play nice with your sister," Her mother admonishes her, trembling slightly. God, what is wrong with her? She's frightened of her six year old child._

_ "Get bent," Vicky snaps back, glowering. Unceremoniously, she, flipping her mother and the baby the finger, dumps herself on the floor. Malevolence glows in her rose colored eyes._

_ "Now, that isn't a nice thing to say to your mother," Her father scolds her, his arms folded across his chest. In a few minutes, he has to go to work, good for him. She's stuck in the house with the demon that stole her childhood, and he can just up and leave whenever he wants to._

_ "Go to hell." Shifting her gaze, she focuses entirely on the brat with bits of black hair, squirming around in her crib. A few rattles nearby momentarily interest her- Vicky mentally notes them and how best to destroy them. (If only she could prevent her parents from replacing them…)_

_ "Young lady!" Oh, so he thinks she's in trouble, does he? She'll show him, she's got a whole world of trouble. It's all stored upstairs in her room, ah, the power of blackmail. They'll shut up or pay the consequences._

_ Smiling so cruelly they shudder, the redhead vanishes, venturing to retrieve the documents that will ensure abject loyalty. Soon…soon…_

_ Returning, folders in her arms, she intones their transgressions, every single one of them. Finally, they stop toying with Tootie and notice her, but only to blanch. Her mother stumbles backward, barely caught by her father. Wonderful, just what she thought would happen._

_ "Vicky…why?" Her father whispers, eyes glued to the pages, laden with charges she can scarcely pronounce. How did she find out every single thing they'd done wrong in their lives? But, more than that, why would she go to such great lengths against them?_

_ Smirking, she throws her head back and guffaws in their faces. Somehow, this makes the matter even more dire than before. Not only does she wish to destroy them, but she takes joy in it. What…what's wrong with her?_

_ "You ruined my life, now I'm going to ruin yours," She hisses, hugging her arms to her chest. Tootie, ceasing, stares at her. _Your moment will come…everyone will be in my power…and they'll all pay!

_Stammering, her father replies, "What-what happened to you? It seems that ever since Tootie was born, you've been cruel to us and-"_

_ "Shut up! Don't call her 'Tootie', her true name is mistake. She came about because you two were stupid enough to conceive her and, by doing so, leave me alone." She spits, body trembling too, but with anger. _

_ "Are you jealous of her and all the attention she's getting?" Her mother whispers, praying it's this. All her magazines tell her that the older sibling often becomes envious, but they can swiftly be placated by a reassurance of their affection. If it's not this, she can't find a logical reason for her daughter's newly found hatred._

_ "Jealous of her? Ha! Only you count wanting to drown her in the bath water!" Vicky sniggers, a grin forming. Her parents draw back again, put off. _

_ Quivering, her father extends an arm out, to stroke her hair. Vicky whacks it off, nearly breaking it. She's so furious, it's almost palpable._

_ "Don't touch me with your filth!" She hisses, clutching the folders tighter. "I'm keeping these, just in case you try anything stupid like that again."  
  
_

_ "Why?" Her mother echoes weakly, scooping Tootie up and cradling her. Vicky pivots, glowering at the two. A thousand images whip through her mind, all involving Tootie's terrible, horrible death in some way. _

_ "What happened to you?" Her father adds, draping an arm around his wife's shoulder. That's it, she can feel it again. They're excluding her, because she isn't 'happy' like them. Don't they know happiness is fleeting, and easily captured by thugs? Hmph._

_ For a brief second, her vision is fogged by tears, bitter, remorseful tears. She shakes her head fiercely, dispelling them. No, she isn't Vicky anymore, nor __Victoria__…she's…she's…Icky Vicky._

_ "Are you crying, sweetie?" Releasing her mother, he bends down to place an arm around her shoulders. Briefly, she permits him to do so, before she shoves him away. No…she doesn't want his pity…_

_ From that moment on, she vows to never permit anyone to see her misery. Instead, she'll inflict it, make them cry. And, in the beginning, she'll vicariously lament with them, mourn the loss of their childhood. For if she's not happy, then they cannot be either. (Not that lessens the pain, but it helps)._

_ Swiftly, she exits, already plotting against her teachers. The more they fear her, the more she can get away with. After she's done mourning her loss, she'll start the cycle anew…No one is safe from her reign of terror._

-----

All villains have a weakness, something that will bring them to their knees. Thank God she didn't have one, one Timmy would have surely discovered by now. Hmph, the little brat always had to ruin her carefully laid plans, didn't he? Oh, well, but at least he was destroying both of their lives now.

Although, if she were in love with Timmy and covering it up by being extra cruel to him, she'd shoot herself. The nerve of some stupid person to claim it! Anyone that stupid ought to be shot…seriously…

Which brought her back to Tootie- that girl was going to suffer, one way or another. After all, there was no such thing as too much misery.


	11. What's Wanted Isn't Always What's Needed

Author's Note: I'm in great shape here, about to put the disclaimer instead of a note. Oh, well...I'm stressed out...but thanks to my reviewers and fans.

Disclaimer: I don't own FOP...but wouldn't it be grant if I did?

Chapter Eleven: What's Needed Isn't Always What's Wanted

Timmy found her in his driveway. If it weren't for the fact he was already so despondent after lying to Trixie after she'd spilled her guts to him, he'd laugh. Then again, what was so funny about someone in love with him, lying in the driveway?

"Tootie?" He called, helping her to her feet. She, stumbling, clung to him and there was a brief moment where they remained in each other's arms before, embarrassed, he backed away. Damn him...

_What was I was going to say? Every time I look at him, I lose my train of thought. All I can think of is smothering him in affection and...why does he look so miserable? He's got the girl of his dreams and I'm going to leave him alone, I think..._

_That's all he ever wanted- Trixie and me to do what Vicky says I should, just disappear. I know I'm of no use to anyone, not even myself. I'm just trying to make him happy and if it makes him happy to vanish, then that's what I'll do. He's the only thing in my life that I would die for._

"I know you're with Trixie now and..." She fumbled for the words, all of which sounded so much better in her head than in real life. Here, they came out flat and unemotional, contrary to the storm inside her heart right now. She couldn't give up on Timmy...but she had to. If she didn't, Trixie would dump him and he'd be miserable, thanks to her.

But then again, there was the kiss. Had he only done it to appease her and stop her midway? Did he do it because he enjoyed doing it? Was she reading more into it than was there? Dare she get her hopes up?

Dare she look in his eyes and see affection for her shining through? Dare she relinquish her hold on him to make him happy? It wasn't about what she wanted more than life itself, it was about what he wanted. She understood that now.

So, instead of coming here and saying what she'd intended, she'd tell him everything he must hear from her. No matter how hard it was for her...she'd toss in the towel for him. That had to be why he was so dejected- he knew she was coming somehow. She was never able to create any sense of jubilation for him. Instead, she acted as a leech.

"Is there something you wanted to tell me?" Timmy asked, bewildered. Every few seconds, she'd break into thought and her face would contort. Whatever ran through her mind, it had to be painful for to digest. Personally, he couldn't think of a reason why she'd collapse in his driveway if not to talk to him. Unless, of course, she had an affinity with the pavement...

"Are you happy?" Tootie blurted, deviating completely from her planned speech. "Because if you are..."

"Huh? What are you talking about?" Folding his arms, he regarded her. For the first time since he could remember, she wasn't throwing herself at him. In fact, she looked so meek, she was frightening him.

Drawing a deep, shaky breath, she finally expelled that which she knew had to ensure his contentment. However, for certain she could not look him in the eye when she said it, lest she lost it entirely. He'd hear it, but she had to maintain her composure. She had to tell him...

"If you're happy with Trixie, then...then I'll just go away, okay? You won't hear from me anymore and I'll stop stalking you and...and I'll drop off the end of the earth!" Biting her lip so hard she drew blood, she cast one last wretched glance at him before she ran off, back to the hell that was her house. She'd done her deed and now, Timmy could finally be rid of her.

Tears blurring her vision, she barely saw her way home, but she scarcely reached it before Timmy, darting after her, caught her around the waist. She shook him off, misinterpreting his gestures. Right now, the last thing she longed for right now was his sympathy.

"Leave me alone, damn it!" Tootie shrieked, forgetting that, while those words might be in her vocabulary, they weren't in his. His parents actually cared what he said, whereas her parents didn't care about anything concerning her. If they did, they would send Vicky far, far away.

Panting, she reached her house before he did and slammed the door in his face. Unfortunately, while this did give her the satisfaction of saying 'no' to him, it also yielded an awakening of the beast, a.k.a. Vicky. Grr...why did she have to be such a light sleeper?

"Brat!" Vicky thundered, cascading down the stairs. In her hands was the Timmy doll, which she brandished and flexed. Breaky breaky.

Trembling with suppressed rage, she sent her a reproachful glare. If Vicky thought she was going to screw around with her, she had another thing coming because she was in no mood for her bitchy older sister's tricks. Hmph, if she wasn't careful, she'd get a taste of her own medicine.

"Destroy that. In fact, send Doidle in to get rid of the pictures and other things I put on my computer and hidden in my closet. I give you express permission to destroy everything with Timmy's face on it." _If that doesn't startle her, nothing will. She's not accustomed to getting her way so easily when it comes to Timmy...maybe this'll teach her to leave me alone. _

Just as she'd anticipated, Vicky stood there, mouth agape. No words would come to her, nothing at all. All she could do was gape at her like an idiot. Good...it was about time she acted her I.Q. Despite her power to push people away, she wasn't the only person in charge of her emotions. If Tootie so chose, she could bring misery upon herself.

"Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to be alone." Flinging her jacket back on the rack, she shoved her way past her and stormed up the stairs. For once, Vicky had nothing to say. Silence was golden.

As soon as she reached her room, she locked the door and slammed it hard. At long last, she could collapse on her bed and remember the past...the almost blissful past. The one where she didn't give up on Timmy...

-----

(Five years ago, at a poor planned dance)

_He looks so handsome...even though he's only five and therefore, unaccustomed to wearing a small, pink tuxedo with a little white rose pined to the lapel. His hair is parted to the sides, but he won't stop fidgeting. Elementary school dances are a horrible idea, Geraldine Waxelplax knows this, but she has hopes. Terribly high and doomed to be dashed hopes, but hopes nonetheless._

_Her hair tumbles down her front, braided in French braids. However, her dress is terribly plain, a hand me down from Vicky that was spat upon, drenched in god knows what, and then run over by a bike. She wouldn't let her parents clean it, either, so there it remains, fortunately scentless. If it reeked as much as her appearance does, she'd cry._

_Already, his eyes follow Trixie, the belle of the ball, around the room. Of course, she's the belle, her father made sure of that. Her stinking rich father, with all this money to make sure Trixie was the snottiest piece of work in all of the kindergarten. God, she hates her._

_Why wouldn't she hate her? She's got Timmy's heart on her sleeve, but he's just an empty bus seat to her. What she wants to know is- if she's so rich, why does she take the bus like a normal person? Shouldn't she be chauffeured?_

_And if she's so rich, why does she wear the same darn outfit every day? You'd think she'd have at least one change of clothes. Or were all her clothes the same? Did she open her closet and find identical garments?_

_Conversely, the dress she wears right now would be more suited for a prom queen than a five year old. It's a satin pink number, off shoulder. It comes to about her knees and then billows out, like an old ballroom gown. As beautiful as it is, she hates it with a passion. Why? Because it makes the boys drool._

_Every time she approaches him, he runs off, trying his best to get Trixie to notice him and bless him with a dance. Doesn't he understand? She'd gladly dance with him, he had only say the word and she'd be in his arms. _

_None of the boys give her a second glance, their eyes are all glued to Trixie. Veronica, scowling, trails her, keeping the boys at bay. Like Tootie, they give her the cold shoulder. Even if she's pretty, she's not as pretty as Trixie. Therefore, she's worthless._

_"Timmy!" Tootie cries desperately, seizing his sleeve. He shrugs her off, hypnotized by Trixie. The more she sees that girl, the more she wants to obliterate her from the face of the earth. Maybe more than Vicky, she despises her._

_Poor Mrs. Waxelplax darts up and down the hardwood floor of the gym, trying to force boys and girls to dance together. If they won't do that until high school and even then it's sexual, why would they do it in elementary school, with the cootie shot? The mere touch makes them run screaming._

_Downcast, Tootie settles down in a chair in the corner of the room and watches Timmy get rejected repeatedly. If he isn't chary, he'll run astray of Trixie's bodyguard. Maybe she ought to help him out..._

_"Timmy!" She screams again, yanking him away from Trixie just as her bodyguard produces the chart and gets ready to throw him out. But does he thank her? Of course not, that wouldn't be the Turner way. Instead, he glares at her as though it's _her _fault._

_"What the heck do you think you're doin'?!" Abandoning her yet again, he ventures off in search of his friends, leaving her alone again. Some of the crueler girls, girls who will later join Trixie's inner ring of hell, er, her clique, snigger appreciatively and snap things that make her ears burn. They all hate her._

_Like a moth to the flame, she continues to trail him, hoping he'll notice her. He does, but not in a positive manner. Every few seconds, it's another insult, or, once or twice, he throws his punch in her face. She whimpers, but follows him all the same._

_Finally, he relents. She shivers, freezing from the ice punch. Maybe now he'll ask her to dance? Maybe there's hope?_

_No, of course not. He merely shakes his head and indicates, in no uncertain terms, how little he enjoys her company. Were he older, it would be so obscene, Nickelodeon executives would faint._

_Bursting into noisy tears (with the hopes that someone will notice), she weeps unabashed. The principal, occupied with keeping a fight from breaking out over Miss Tang, fails to, and the object of her affections is beyond her. Once again, no one cares..._

_"Timmy...please like me..." Tootie whimpers, watching him avoid Trixie yet chase after her at the same time. He bumps into Tootie and then tries to escape her. No, she's been rejected enough, she can't take anymore._

_Snatching his hand, she forces him to dance with her. They fight meanwhile, and Timmy manages to squirm out of her grip, hurting her in the process. What does he care? He can go chase after Trixie to his heart's delight now._

_Sniffling, she feels her sore hand, covered in bruises. When Timmy fought her, he didn't break the skin, but it hurt worse than if he had. Already, her skin turns orange and brown. Darn him..._

_Dejected, she continues to trail him, but her heart isn't in it any more. A person can only take so much rejection before they lose face...and she stopped having fun a long time ago. The only reason she's doing this now is because she needs to do something to try to keep him by her. If she hangs around him, he won't stand a chance around Trixie._

_"Knock it off!" Timmy finally snaps, propelling her backwards, into Veronica. Briefly, they exchange a glance before Veronica decides to shove her away. No sympathy..._

_For the rest of the evening, he proceeds to ignore her or shove her into people/things. She's bawling like a baby, but no one pays her any mind. Instead, they mock her derisively._

_Finally, as the night is through, she makes one final plea for his attention. Practically flinging herself at his feet, she begs and pleads for a dance. He doesn't even have to touch her._

_"If I can't dance with Trixie, why would I settle for _you_?" Timmy snaps, turning his back on her._

_"But I love you!" Tootie cries, despondent. Snickers accompany her remark and her heart plummets into her stomach. Why will no one take her seriously?_

------

_But I love you...and if you love something, you must let it go...but I can't...I'm sorry, Timmy. I must take back what I said...because I know you're not happy and I need to try to be happy too..._

Sighing heavily, her eyes shot towards the telescope, angled towards Timmy's window. He banged his head against something repeatedly, but she couldn't tell what it was.

_I'm sorry, Timmy...but I have to do this..._

Fingers trembling, she reached for the phone and for a number Timmy had accidentally left over there.

"Hello, Trixie."


	12. Past Meets Present

Author's Note: There is no flashback in this chapter. I repeat, no flashback in this chapter. It's already too long, if I added a flashback, people might lose interest. Oh, and thanks to everyone who reviewed…I'm going through a really rough time right now, so your reviews make me feel as though I'm doing at least _one _thing right.

Disclaimer: I don't own FOP, but I do have a question for you guys. Why is it, in the companion to this, everyone bashes Tootie? I understand it's somewhat Timmy/Trixie, but come on! Leave the poor girl alone, she's got enough to deal with.

Chapter Twelve: Past Meets Present

She knew it was wrong to rat Timmy out like this, but what alternative did she have? Besides, her mind kept rationalizing; it wasn't as though he were being entirely honest with her to begin with. Honesty was the foundation of a good relationship, and if he couldn't be honest with her, then what right did he have to try anything? She was doing the right thing.

However, no amount of explaining removed the butterflies from her stomach. Normally, she did not confer at any time with Trixie, especially over matters such as these. In a battle of wits, although she deemed herself the superior, she still didn't want to risk any possible happiness for Timmy.

Taking that into account, again she returned to the why of her motive. Here she was, on the other end of what looked to be a very unpleasant conversation, and she could end it by simply hanging up the phone. There was no need to drive her away, unless she created one. She held the future of Timmy and Trixie's relationship in her hands, as well as any hope Timmy might have had for being rid of her…so why did she persist? Was there an innate sensation in her for causing the misery of others? Did the apple really not fall far from the tree?

But she'd better answer her soon, before the other girl lost her patience and made the decision for her. She _was _going to go through this, wasn't she? She'd the guts to call her; didn't she have the guts to tell her exactly what kind of person her boyfriend was?

_Then again, if I do, that means I'm both sinking to their level as well as destroying Timmy…I love him, don't I? So why would I even think of doing this? Do I really love him if I do? Or do I just want him like Trixie does?_

_I don't play with boys' minds; I'm better than her! Aren't I…? Maybe…I should keep my damn mouth shut…_

"Trixie?"

"Yes?" Trixie replied, irritated. Oh, so she woke her up from her enchanted slumber. She could really give a damn, but this was important. (Why was it just when she'd thought she was going to refrain from mentioning anything, the anger surged up and she found herself unable to see straight?)

Well, if her big mouth was going to get her into trouble, she'd rather it was with Trixie than her sister anyway. The rich snob she could handle, the egomaniacal lunatic she called a sibling, not so much. Whatever she had to say, all she could reply was, 'bring it on'.

"Who gave you this number?" _A little boy that you happen to view as _your _territory. I've got news for you, Tang, the boy is mine! You never had a prayer!_

It took her a few minutes to calm down enough to properly respond. She wasn't sure what it was, but Trixie immediately drove her insane. Maybe it was just that tone, the condescending, pretentious, holier than thou attitude that made her want to strangle her…were she that type of person. Instead, she thought she'd fume quietly and put her rage into something more constructive, like her Timmy shrine. What, you thought she made all that stuff just because she was obsessed with him?

Forcing the words past her gritted teeth, Tootie said at long last, "Timmy."

_Yes, your perfect boyfriend, the one you think tells you the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, is lying. How does that make you feel, little bitch? Does it make you all tingly inside? Does it make the fact you're spoiled rotten seem a little less significant? Are you slightly less happy now?_

After all, what else could Trixie be but happy? She had it all, and a mansion to put it in. Although she hadn't seen her with a mother, she was certain she had one, and she was sure she actually cared about her, instead of living in fear of her older sibling. She was an only child, she got all the attention (whereas Tootie got none, or what she did get was hardly what she wanted). With every passing second, Tootie hated her more and more.

While homicidal thoughts tended to be commonplace to her, Trixie took it to a whole new level. If she could, she'd eradicate both her and her older sister, then perhaps Timmy and she would be happy…if it weren't for that freaky cheerleader that she could swear stalked Timmy too…

_You know, I never really liked cheerleaders. Way too happy. And now I know why, because they've got a much better chance than I do at my only shot at happiness. What is it about them that boys like? Yeesh._

"And who are you?" Trixie snapped, causing her to blink in astonishment. Oh, her caller ID was out? Aw, she'd cry a river for her, she really would. And while she was doing that, she'd go and hug Vicky just for the hell of it.

"What's the matter? Don't have caller ID?" Tootie retorted, peeved. _So any psycho can call you and berate you to no end? Hmph…I guess I'd fit that definition…at least, according to Vicky._

Speaking of, why hasn't she said boo to me? Whenever I'm awake way past my supposed bedtime, she practically crams a sleeping pill down my throat so she doesn't have to deal with me. Maybe she's too tired or something…not that I'm complaining, but it's kind of odd…

"Tootie!" Trixie hissed, causing Tootie to smirk. _She finally got it. That's deserving of an award, isn't it? Well, let's give the award in comedy, if she finds comedy so low. Comedy and animation, that's it. Break another heart, why don't you?_

"Why the hell did you call me?" Holding the receiver away, Tootie mock gasped. The girl knew how to curse? Who would have thought? Since when did contemptuous little sluts know curse words? They belonged to the older generation of haters, who wanted their siblings dead and buried…

Well, if she could curse, so could she. Why not swoop to her level? It might be painful at first, but everything dealing with Trixie happened to be. She was just a malevolent pain in the rear, only suitable for the type of people who liked them, a.k.a. 'high society'. (They made her sick).

But even with her hatred, she wasn't certain she deserved to be hurt, loath though she was to admit it. If Trixie was happier not knowing (and Timmy certainly would be, considering it was their future on the line), maybe, just maybe, she ought to rethink this.

So she faltered. Her two desires competed, threatening to take over. One screamed 'screw Timmy, tell her anyway so you can get what you want', but the cooler side said that it wasn't right to think she could manipulate people and 'two wrongs don't make a right'. Briefly, she wondered where she learned her morals from- it couldn't have been from Vicky.

"To tell you...to tell you..." Tootie stammered, tripping over her words. When it came down to it, she didn't think she could break her heart. No matter how bad she'd treated her in the past, grudges hurt both the bearer and the person against whom it was aimed. They leeched out your life and she ought to know. Vicky bore the strongest one of all…against her.

_Why did my throat close up like that? Is Trixie rendering me so nervous, I can't speak in her presence? Ugh, but that'd make me one of her suitors, and those boys, I feel so bad for them…including my Timmy…_

_Timmy…what did you do to deserve this? Nothing…I can't tell her._

"What?!" Trixie screamed, exasperated. "Why doesn't someone screen my calls?!"

So you don't have someone to do one little thing for you? Oh, I'm going to cry for you. Little tears are going to fall down my face, the world's smallest violin is going to play, and I'm going to care.

_Wah, bitch to someone who gives a damn, like your best friend. Lucky you, you have everything, including friends. What do I have, but a sister who wishes I were dead, a crush that only knows I exist so long as he avoids me, and parents who agree with everything my sister says. If she told them she was going to force me off a cliff, they'd say, 'how high's the cliff?' or something stupid like that. At least she has someone who cares about her._

"Why, so miss pretty can't waste a minute and unfiled nails on those who aren't worthy?" Tootie shot back, rising from the bed. She had to pace, release that pent up energy some way. If she didn't, she was in danger of exploding…and breaking into her security to strangle her with her own damn hair. _Well, officers, I knew it was long for a reason, silly me to think it was to suffocate her with it._

Before she knew it, everything she longed to say, but hadn't had the courage to before, burst out. The dam had broken, her emotions were sick of being toyed with. By dating Timmy, she was playing with both their heads, and no way in hell was she going to let get away with it. _Back off…or you'll wish you were never born._

"And you're just going to hang up on me, aren't you? You'd rather ignore reality than deal with it, that's the way it is with you perfect little rich girls! You have everything you could ever dream of, but you always want more!"

Trembling from head to toe, Tootie opened the window to allow herself to breathe before she passed out from sheer fury. Already, she could feel her face gain a flush, her fists balled and ready to strike. She'd kill her, make her wish she was never born…She'd be just like Vicky if she had to, to protect her interests.

She didn't understand why she'd wanted to protect Trixie in the first place. What had she done to earn her loyalty? Since when did she care about her? There was a thing called compassion…but that only got you so far. Timmy had earned it, but no one else, especially Trixie.

Snarling, Trixie retorted, "You have _no _idea what my life is like."

Oh, really? Since when? I've always had a good idea what your life is like- fancy dining, fancy everything, and oh, yeah, playing with my Timmy on the side!

"Oh, so the fine dining, servants, thousands of clothes, jewelry, maids, and everything I heard about on the movies, radio, and TV were all wrong? You don't have someone to wipe for you? How about making sure you don't have to lift a finger? No? B.S.!" Now she had to open more than a window, she had to duck her head underneath it. Already, heat boiled in her face and extremities- she couldn't think save for the fury pumping inside. Trixie had it easy and she knew it. Why the hell wouldn't she admit it? Did she live just to piss her off?

"That isn't the problem!" Trixie retorted; Tootie smirked. Sure it wasn't, _sure. _And fairies were real, and if you just closed your eyes and wished really hard, some justice would happen to Vicky and her parents would love her again. Bull crock.

"Oh, really? Then what is? I'm _dying _to know!" Tootie hissed, folding her arms across her chest. She felt herself spit on the receiver and yearned to do that in her face. _Make you dirty like me, huh? Taste what middle class is like! Let me corrupt you with my lack of money!_

"What makes your life so horrible, miss perfect? Tell me!" Gritting her teeth, she ground them, ready for some stupid thing Trixie would retort. It'd be something trivial, wasn't it always with rich girls? _Wah, wah, Daddy won't take me to the La-Di-Da Ball. _

"My mother's coming to town and she doesn't even know I'm alive nor does she care! She gave birth to me and then that was it! My family threw her out! At least you have your parents, bitch!" Trixie screamed and Tootie nearly dropped the phone in shock. No words would come to her, nothing at all. She couldn't pick on the fact Trixie didn't have a mother, that wasn't fair…and although she still hated her, she felt sorry for her…

What now? Well, she _did _still have Timmy…if she could muster up all the anger she'd held not ten seconds ago, perhaps she could launch a tirade. But already, she knew it'd be empty.

"What?!" Tootie choked, finding herself in a mental block. Good Lord, she pitied her…her worst enemy, the girlfriend of Timmy, the love of her life, and she empathized with her.

Sinking to the floor, she discovered she had nothing to say, not at the moment. Trixie took advantage of her silence, of course, and launched a tirade of her own.

"And people _listen _to you when you speak! You aren't expected to be perfect every second of the day! No one bases their love of you on whether or not you can talk like a young adult! You have a childhood, damn it!"

_ Yeah, right…some childhood. My sister wants me dead and makes that abundantly clear, my parents don't give a hoot about me, and the only person in my life that could turn it around is with _you_, you…you…_

"No one loves me, least of all Timmy! You stole him, you charlatan!" Tootie retorted, not entirely certain what the word meant but using it anyway. "You warped him so he could just forget that he kissed me-"

_No! I hadn't meant to tell her that, not after what she just said…No…she's got it rough enough with her mother, she didn't need to hear…Oh, god…what have I done? I'm a monster…a heartless monster…I'm Vicky…_

"What?!" It was Trixie's time to choke, and Tootie felt remorse with every passing second. _I'm so sorry, Trixie…I didn't mean it…well, I did, originally, but not now! I didn't mean it…_

"When?" Trixie stated coldly, seeking to prevent any emotion from seeping into her voice. However, she knew it was there, just lurking beneath the surface. Trixie wasn't an ice queen, no matter how hard she pretended that she was.

"A-a few weeks before you two became a couple," Tootie stammered, longing to shut herself up but the words wouldn't stop coming. _I can't stop hurting her…_

"Don't cry," Tootie added uselessly. "Please...I'm sorry..."

_I am! I'm so very sorry…Trixie…_

The only answer she received was the dial tone. She'd broken her heart…Tootie needn't have worried about Timmy doing it, for she'd done it herself.

_I'm no better than Vicky…_


	13. I Need Some Sleep

Author's Note: I don't own it, and what happened to my readers? Only two reviews last time? Yeesh…there's another memory in this one. The memory's longer this time, too, so I hope you're happy. And review, for the love of God! I need something to make me happy…

Disclaimer: I don't own FOP and I never will…

Chapter Thirteen: I Need Some Sleep

Tootie couldn't sleep. After the disturbing click, everything that ran through her head was related to how badly she'd wrecked Trixie's relationship. She wasn't like Vicky, damn it! So why did she persist in behaving like her?

She might have made herself physically sick, now that she thought about it. Perhaps she ought to go downstairs and take something for it (the medicines were secure in the kitchen cabinets), but if she did, she risked waking the beast. Today had held too many close calls to count and she didn't fancy another one. With any luck, the nausea would pass by itself.

She hadn't known! How was she to know that Trixie (a), didn't have a mother and (b), technically, she did have one, only (c), she didn't give a rat's ass about her?

_Maybe because you didn't ask,_ a nasty little voice piped up in her head. In most people's minds, they'd refer to it as a conscience, but to Tootie, who was ill in the mood for such things, she thought of it as the damning voice of reason. Well, whatever it was, she wished it'd go away- she felt bad enough already.

All right, she'd give the voice that much- she hadn't asked. But would you want to? How many people would try to be chummy with a girl that'd successfully second handedly (Vicky being the first) ruined her school life? Correction, how many people were just that _stupid_? Talk about tickling a sleeping dragon…

_I ought to tell Timmy I ruined his love life _again_, that way, he can hate me in full_, She thought desperately, reaching for the phone. _Set things straight…and he can join the anti Tootie coalition._

Eyeing the card warily, she dialed Timmy's number only to get a busy signal. Hmm…strange…she'd try tomorrow.

Sighing heavily, she waited for sleep to come…but memories did instead.

------

(Five years ago, the last day of school)

_School's out! Er, rather, it will be in a few short minutes. Tootie can't wait to get home…until she remembers the terror that will ensure her summer is worse than her school year. On second thought, she'd rather stay here._

_But there's nothing here she particularly likes. Only Timmy, and his eyes are glued to his 'goddess', the gorgeous and potentially witchy Trixie Tang. He'd follow her to the ends of the earth- and Tootie's pretty sure following her would be like entering the end of the earth._

_It isn't that she dislikes her, more that she's given her no incentive to like her. If given the chance, Tootie would be a fiercely loyal friend (she's intense about everything, including her Timmy), but she sees no reason to open up to her. Every time she goes near her, she ends up getting hurt in some way. It's just like Vicky, only younger and prettier._

_Right now, it's lunch, the time when the kids get together and eat with their friends. Throughout the year, many had garnered compatriots and fellow classmates with whom to munch. She, however, hasn't. No one will eat with her, especially not Timmy._

_So she selects a seat far away from everyone, on the ground, and proceeds to eat the sliver of an apple Vicky permitted her to pack. Originally, at the start of the morning, she'd had a full lunch, but, being the bully that she is, she quickly acquired the rest of it. Well, all Tootie has to say to that is she hopes she gets fat…and a heck of a lot slower._

_From the front of the cafeteria, Tootie spots Timmy gazing at her. Her cheeks grow red and she drops her head. Whatever he's gawking at her for, it can't be anything good. He doesn't like her (and perhaps he'll never like her), so why is his attention fixated right now? Unless Trixie put him up to something and she wouldn't put it past her…_

_Throughout the year, Trixie Tang had shown just how much she despised her, for no apparent reason. Although Tootie disdained being treated like that, she would still be willing to forgive her…despite the fact she's Timmy's love interest. Yes, Trixie rubs her the wrong way, but not merely because of her cruel nature, good looks, and lack of empathy. It's pretty much everything about her she hates._

_Trixie feels unhappy to her. She can't explain it, it evades her, but nevertheless, she feels this sense of discontent. Astutely, she believes this is why she must render Tootie miserable (just like Vicky); what if she had a real friend, though? Wouldn't that make her less inclined to harm her? (Tootie, of course, looks for any means of escape from a bad situation. With Vicky, it's run away, but with Trixie, she isn't certain)._

_Sure, she says she has friends and those boys do follow her around, but are they enough? Do they make her happy? She doubts it._

_Oddly enough, right next to her, leering at her, is the garbage can. Briefly, she ponders whether or not this was the best place to eat her lunch, ignoring the fumes (were there any to consider). Anyone with half a mind (or less than half, like Trixie) could easily cascade a 'treasure trove' of trash on a hapless person, that person being she. Nevertheless, she can't believe Trixie's that cruel…is she?_

_Rising swiftly, Timmy, at the head of the cafeteria, crosses over and halts, poised. With pained eyes, she, silently pleading, gazes at him. Of course, she can't be certain he will, but never underestimate the power of a boy under Trixie Tang's tutelage. _Maybe he thinks he'll get something out of it if he does.

_Naturally, it takes her little time to finish her 'lunch'. Quickly, as not to draw any undue attention to her (aside from Timmy, she'd rather not be noticed), she drops the core inward. The bags seems ominously full to her…_

_"Well, well. It looks like you found a friend," Trixie croons, purposefully releasing her tray of foie gras on her head. Droplets of some sort of liquid ooze down her face; bits of meat stick in her pigtails and a fork jut from one pigtail. She's a sight for sore eyes, especially Timmy's, glued to her._

_"Oh, I missed. I'm so _sorry_," Trixie smirks, voice dripping with sarcasm._

_Tears surface, however, she stifles them. Already every eye in the café is rooted to the scene; she doesn't need further embarrassment in front of Timmy by wailing. _I'm so sick of being the butt of her jokes; she knows Timmy's watching and she does it anyway. Or, rather, she does it because she knows he's watching. But…if it looks like I don't like her, which I don't, he might not like me. And that means he'll never like me…no more hand holding, kissing or anything. I'll be stuck with Vicky forever.

_"I guess your mom didn't teach you how to clean up," Tootie mutters, wiping her brow. Immediately, Trixie blanches, her hands clench, and silence descends upon the room. Unwittingly, she's insulted her. She ought to feel proud of herself, but she doesn't. No matter what others might think, she really isn't like Vicky and she doesn't derive satisfaction from causing another's misfortune._

_"What do you know about my mom?" Trixie sneers, face constricted. Whatever mark she hit, she more than struck it, she obliterated it. But what could be so drastically wrong with her mother that would bring about a reaction so strong? Maybe…she didn't have one…_

_"Nothing…" Tootie whimpers, sensing a confrontation. God, she hates confrontations. Every time Vicky tries to lure her into one, she always flees the scene. Now, though, she may not be able to avoid it._

_"Good," Trixie replies, her voice uncharacteristically trembling. No, she hasn't just found a weak spot, she's found an Achilles heel. If she were anyone else, like Vicky, for instance, she'd pick and pick at it until it bled. However, she isn't nearly that strong or stupid, so she lets the topic drop._

_Trixie, shuddering, appears badly shaken. Veronica speaks with her, but she shrugs her off. For now, she wants to be alone and she darts off, towards the bathrooms._

_As soon as she does, a group 'ooh' erupts. Children exit their seats just to crowd in on her and Timmy's sneer is the worst of all. For once, she wishes she could switch places with Trixie and vanish from sight. It'd be easier than dealing with this._

_"Look what you did!" The crowd continues, slowly backing her into a corner and pointing the finger at her as kids are wont to do. Tears surface; angrily, she shoves them away, grinding her fist into her eyes. _

_"Crybaby, crybaby, stick it in your eye baby!" They jeer, a few taking their lunches and 'accidentally' missing the garbage can. Of course they've turned on her- she just hurt their leader, the most popular girl in their class, and now she's crying about it? Well, there's no shot in hell now that they'll let her get away with it._

_Bits of sandwich hit her, sullying her dress and splattering on her glasses. Chunks of peanut butter stick out, preventing her from seeing what's coming ahead. _Doom, gloom, and more doom.

_"Stop…" She whimpers, feeling aluminum cans strike her in the face. A few smack her forehead, leaving indents. How much do they really hate her now? All she wanted to do was belong…_

_A food fight breaks out, but it's more like dodge ball. As in, she has to dodge, were she able to see the particles, and they launch everything against her. _Where is Timmy? Why isn't he stopping this? Doesn't he care?

_Meanwhile, over by the side, Timmy gazes at the shreds of his lunch. The other boys have already set their meals upon her, but he abstains. Some shred of decency remains and he has his reservations. He likes Trixie, but does Tootie really deserve this? Sure, he's angry at her for doing that, but…what if it's not her fault? What if she just stumbled on a bombshell?_

_"Timmy!" Tootie screams, curling up to shrink their target. Sobs shake her small frame and food particles cover her body. Truly, she is a pitiable figure, but only for those who want to see her that way. Children can be malicious- they don't care who they hurt, only that they inflict damage. To them, they see a weakling, ready to beat. _

_No voices of morality echo in his ears and won't for some time. It's up to him and whatever he's acquired from his parents to decide whether or not to help her. The question becomes- will he? _

_The lunch man finds himself swamped with children, all clamoring for food. He, foolishly, assumes that they're still hungry, and hands them some. In about five seconds, all food is launched against Tootie. She strongly resembles a garbage heap now._

_"Stop!" Timmy finally screams, jumping in front of her. Startled, quite a few halt in mid-step. Only a belated few strike him and he angrily shakes it off. _

My hero…he's defending me! He loves me!

_Well, maybe not love, but it grates his nerves to see anyone in that situation. He has empathy for her, oddly enough, perhaps because she looks so pitiful. It'd take days to clear off all the crap covering her._

"_Leave her alone!" Timmy calls, glancing from her to her assailants. "What'd she do to you?" _

_No words come from Tootie for support. Truly, she's grateful for this, but all she can do at the moment is sob. Whenever she recovers enough, she'll express herself sufficiently. Otherwise, she'll silently praise him._

_Silence reigns- a teacher enters and, upon spotting Tootie, gasps. He signals to other teachers and they hawk throughout the café, searching for the culprits. The only one not to blame here is Timmy and Trixie, both of whom were either out of the room or silently observing. Of course, none of the students see it this way. They must play the blame game._

_Pinching her nose, the teacher approaches Tootie. Shaking her head blearily, she denies her proffered hand and, hugging Timmy tightly and kissing him on the neck (she fails to realize this covers him with some of the same as her), she flees the scene. So much for a joyful last day of school, huh?_

-------

_She ends up going home early, to change. A teacher drives her home, where she lies and says someone's home. ( Vicky's still in school and her parents at work). However, her mother might return for lunch. She'd love that, if her mother's permitted to touch her._

_From what she recalls of the Vicky philosophy, thou shalt not touch the mistake. By touching the mistake, one envelops the bad luck of the mistake. The mistake should not be comforted, for she is a mistake and should eventually die off. _

_Sitting, idly watching cartoons on Nick, she watches the door attentively. It's almost two o'clock and she knows that's when her mother takes her break. _C'mon, mom…come home…

_Almost on cue, her mother charily opens the door and, not seeing her eldest daughter, she heaves a sigh of relief. Tootie jumps up happily and hugs her tightly, noting that, thanks to a couple of hours of heavy scrubbing, she no longer smells. Thank God…_

_"Hello, Tootie," Her mother says, a smile rising on her face as well. "What are you doing home now? Don't you usually go to daycare after school?"_

_"Nuh-uh," Tootie shoots back, grinning. "I'm not tellin'!" _

_Shaking her head, her mother decides not to press her and, scooping her up into her arms, prepares her lunch. For an hour, they manage to have normal, happy lives. That is, until the wicked witch of the west comes home…_

------

_She's good at that, ruining lives. I guess I got that from her,_ Tootie thought, rolling over. No sleep was forthcoming, nor did she think she'd ever see her eyelids fall. It was going to be one hell of a long night…


	14. Beddy Bye Blues

Author's Note: Nothing much to say…read and review, please.

Disclaimer: (sobs) I don't own it! For the love of God…er, right…

Chapter Fourteen: Beddy Bye Blues

_Once upon a __midnight__ dreary, as I ponder, weak and weary.__ Only one thought came to mind- I'm going to get that little brat for waking me up! _Vicky thought, rolling over on the sheets. Her hand was tightly clenched about a lock of Dunsworth's hair, which, still, remarkably, retained its scent of skunk. The thought never occurred to her she might be acting like her sibling when it came to matters of the 'heart', nor would it ever. Dunsworth was no twerp and she didn't care to impress anyone else, other than unsuspecting parents.

If she were a little kinder, and a little saner, perhaps, she'd have noted that she couldn't sleep anyway, Tootie or no. Ever since she was a child, since that day, it took her hours to fall asleep. Only when she lay down, completely content, could she pass out immediately. Yes, pass out- no dreams whatsoever.

Loathing herself with every passing second, she rose, casting aside her sheets. Her green nightgown cascaded down, along with her hair. The gown clung to her body, prominently displaying her curves, were there any around to see them. No one particularly cared what she looked like in sleepwear, probably because no one dared to speak their mind about it.

The floor was cold to her feet, but this was how she liked it. The carpet concealed no warmth, because she kept her room below freezing. She preferred the cold- it kept people on edge. They ought to know better than to screw around with her, anyway.

Speaking of those who should both know better and screwed around with her, what to do about Tootie? Certainly, such a crime as rousing her sister from her slumber had to be punished, but how? (And she also had to think of how much she could get away with, aside from murder. Her parents, oddly enough, might dislike that).

Besides, she knew about the love triangle and she wanted to see how badly Timmy could break her heart before she crushed her windpipe. There was no way on Earth Timmy would choose Tootie over Trixie and she was just waiting for him to shatter her heart. Then, of course, she'd laugh her head off.

Perhaps she'd pay her dear sister a little visit. There was nothing like waking with your sister's hands around your throat, especially if you struggled and then she could claim your murder was an accident. Hmm…that wasn't a bad idea, now that she really thought about it. Death by self-defense.

Carefully treading the carpet, she exited her room and paused before entering her sibling's. From inside, no tell tale snoring resounded. If Tootie wasn't snoring, that meant she wasn't really asleep. Well, at least some small comfort could be taken in the fact neither of them could sleep.

Nudging the door open permitted her to listen in on her sister's sleep murmurings. Tonight, like all nights, involved Timmy and she craned her neck as well as her ears, eavesdropping attentively. Given what she'd ascertained about the current situation, her dream murmuring might prove quite beneficial for her…as blackmail.

"I don't deserve Timmy…Trixie does…I'm a dirty rat…should have kept my mouth shut…don't deserve to be happy…

"I should give up, but I can't…I need him…"

The last three words caused Vicky to snigger appreciatively? She needed him? Aw, that was so cute, she wanted to barf.

"You don't need anyone but yourself, shrimp," Vicky snapped, kicking her door in. It hit with a bang against her wall and Tootie jumped, startled. Nothing like a sound similar to a gunshot to fully wake you.

Despite being a light sleeper, any sleeper would rouse to something like that. Hmm…she had to remember that tactic when she babysat Timmy overnight next time. Then, he'd be at her house and in her clutches. (She'd cram Tootie in the closet or something so she wouldn't be tempted to save him or anything stupid like that).

Frowning (she'd infinitely preferred her dream to this reality), Tootie shifted to cast a wary gaze on her sister. This was always how it seemed to happen- Vicky always managed to corner her. And, as past experiences had told her, nothing good came of these scenes.

A shiver ran through Tootie's body and Vicky smirked, enjoying the almost palpable fear. She knew how to magnify it ten-fold.

Swiftly, she sat beside her in the bed and placed an arm around her shoulders. Just like she'd predicted, Tootie freaked out and quickly wrestled out of her sister's grasp, right onto the floor. Heh, heh. She hoped she liked the floor, because that was where she was going to be sleeping tonight.

Stretching out, Vicky rolled on her back, recalling that this used to be her bed before the cretin took it. Well, it was her bed again- and if Tootie even dared to try to sleep on the bed their parents gave Vicky, she'd make sure the trash collectors tomorrow had a special something.

"You and the floor are strikingly similar," Vicky smirked, kicking Tootie with the heel of her foot. She cried out and sunk beneath the bed, where she couldn't be harmed. Damn, the girl learned quickly; she had to rectify that in the future, make her patterns less conspicuous.

Dust arose and Tootie coughed while her sister cackled. Someone was going to get some sleep tonight…

--------

_(Five years ago, the beginning of summer break)_

_Today is horrible and tomorrow won't be any different. This is her motto and, for the most part, it serves her well. As long as she thinks everything sucks, everything will suck, that is, if they want to keep their heads. If she's miserable, everyone else will be. And if she's happy, well, you'd better be miserable._

_ This, of course, is part of the Vicky philosophy. Tootie, of course, had it ingrained in her brain. She'd better, after having been beaten so many times while she screamed it in her face._

_ Fortunately, her work for the day is over and she strolls amiably out to the curb. When they turn their backs and shut the door, she'll return to her normal, less painful demeanor. How on earth can anyone stand to be nice? It grates her nerves!_

_A large stone permits itself foolishly to be found in her path and she kicks it aside, sending it into a minivan, which promptly shrills its discontent. Hah, hah- she set off the alarm! Now the stupid owners of the stupid car will have to run out to shut off their stupid alarm while she laughs her head off. Morons._

_ At least she has her money from said stupid people. If they ask why their alarm went off, she'll just say their kid did it. (Never mind Monica's playing with her dolls upstairs and couldn't possibly set it off. Parents couldn't conceive of a loophole, which is why they always believe her). How could such a sweet little angel like Vicky ever cause problems? It has to be their own, rotten offspring, never her. She's just the babysitter._

She isn't up to raising her rates astronomically, not yet. When she's older, she'll have a fortune from these saps, but now isn't the time. God, when she's older…everything will be wonderful. She can traumatize who she wants when she wants, wherever she wants.

_First, however, she must inundate herself into their society, pretend to be an adorable entrepreneur, and _then _think about screwing them. (Considering all the lies she has to say, all the false enthusiasm she has to display, it'll be well worth it). But she can't rush into things, or else she'll get a bad reputation, the opposite of what she needs._

_ Already, the charges know she's someone they don't want to screw around with. In fact, she almost lost a client because she 'accidentally' gave one of their midgets a real shiner. Like it was her fault! How else was she supposed to get the two year old to shut up- sing to it? Yeah, right!_

_ And if she had the choice, she'd do it again. She relishes their tears, especially when it's _her _fault. They cry, cry, cry, until she smacks the hell out of them and they shut up. What's funny is that when they tell their parents, who investigate, they can't find a scratch. She isn't stupid- she's not going to hit them in an easily visible place (except for that one kid, but he was asking for it)._

_ Right now, all she wants to do is stomp on her bed, ruin the box springs, make her parents buy her a new one, and torture her sister. Those pigtails are bound to be in, and she has an idea for them- slamming the fifty-pound dictionary on top. If it happens to catch her and smash her brain in, well, she was asking for it too. _

_ Fists balled, Vicky shoots a stray brown cat a nasty glance and sends it sprawling, kicking it in the stomach. It cries out and promptly tries to bite her, but she, snatching a tree branch, jabs it in the eye. Terrified, it backs away and runs off, injured._

_ As expected, the front door is wide open- they wouldn't dare lock it and force her to spend an extra five minutes gaining access to her own house. Not if they valued their lives, that is. Well…she wouldn't kill her parents, but Tootie, on the other hand…_

_ Laughing derisively at the thought of the fifty-pound book landing on her head and squashing Tootie flat, Vicky chucks her 'happy bag' onto the chair, knocking it over. The package is full of destructive and potentially lethal devises, her 'kid kit'. In a way, she's grateful for that stupid enterprise- makes parents a lot less suspicious of her intentions. _

_ Upstairs, some sort of hubbub carries on and, on the first step, she halts, listening. A bed…and an exchange…what's going on here? What did they _dare do_ while she was babysitting? If **anything **happened to her bed, especially at the hands of the mistake, she'll drop her out the window on fire. Then again, she'd like to do that anyway…_

_ Furious, Vicky takes the steps four at a time, nearly falling over. Curses bitterly escape her as she grabs the banister for dear life. A speckle of blood remains on the wood, inciting a smirk. So they didn't clean up after she split her lip on the wood…good times, good times._

_ Not watching her step, however, proves disastrous as she crashes over the top one and careens into the floor, face first. Damn it, but this will only mean more trouble for everyone else when she gets up there. There's going to be hell to pay…_

_ Swiftly, scrambling footsteps echo- Tootie. So that brat _is _up to something, she'll put a stop to it. If she could, she'd put a stop to her, permanently, but that isn't possible at the moment. For now, she'll have to settle for showing her sisterly affection._

_ Naturally, she passes her room, the first room upstairs, to enter Tootie's. On the bed sit, their hands clasped as if in prayer, her parents. From the closet, scarce, muffled whimpers reverberate. Heh, so the gang's all here. _

_ But something's up, she can sniff it out. Whatever it is, Tootie's hiding, _before _she got home. This implies an event of great importance occurred then, so she must sleuth it out and then met it out._

_ "Hello, parents," Vicky greets civilly, for this is all she'll be- civil. They gave her life, yes, so she owes them that little. As for the rest, they can go screw themselves, because she doesn't care. So what if they have needs? Hers are greater and more significant._

_ Needless to say, Tootie's needs fail to figure in at all. Considering she was a mistake to begin with, she doesn't deserve anything, including life. If her mother gave birth to her, there's no reason, feasibly, that she can't kill her as well. When people make mistakes, they want them corrected- correcting the fact Tootie lives will be a milestone for her. Sure, she might feel some remorse for murdering her daughter, but if Medea can do it, why can't she?_

_ "Why are you two sitting on the bed when one of you should be doing dinner and the other should be cleaning my room!" Vicky demands, but then, in the middle of thinking of one for Tootie, halts. Something is out of place here, but she can't quite figure out what. There's something oddly familiar about Tootie's bed._

_ With bated breath, her parents, holding each other's hands so tightly, they threaten to break them, wait. Tootie, inadvertently locking herself in the closet, bangs on the door, forgetting Vicky's outside and she might be safer in than out. A teapot rage brews…three, two, one…_

_ "What the hell is **my **bed doing in the **mistake's **room?!" She thunders, unlocking the closet door only to kick Tootie in the face. She'd aimed for the chest, but she hadn't thought Tootie was kneeling at the door. At any rate, a sickening smack erupts, so she's pleased…temporarily._

_ Quickly, Tootie snatches the doorknob, successfully locking herself in again. Thuds emit- she's barricading herself in. Hmph, since when did she get so smart? Never mind, she'll deal with that later._

_ "How **dare **you put **my **bed in here! What the hell is wrong with you?!" She snaps, punching her mother in the face. In the next twenty minutes, she proceeds to scream, smack, and generally verbally and physically abuse her parents. Terrified, they permit her…only they say nothing about removing the bed._

_ "We got you a new bed…" Her mother whispers shakily, holding her swollen cheek. _

_ "Just go into your room!" Her father pleads, trembling. Now her curiosity is peaked- a new bed? Well…_

_ Casting her parents both dirty looks, she strolls out of Tootie's room and into her own. There, her new bed, resplendent with new dressers and a mirror, proudly shines. _

_ Vicky falls to her knees, her face split with an evil grin. She'll let this one slide…for once. But she'll get her bed back, just wait and see._

------

"Cold, twerpette?" Vicky sniggered, but there was no response. Tootie, evidently, had fallen fast asleep.

Vicky, however, stared at the ceiling. Victory was bittersweet…like everything else. She'd never be happy in life…


	15. Where Fools Fear to Tread

Author's Note: No flashback again. It's more of a further progression of the problem, as in, now we discover at least one other person knows the situation at hand.

Oh, and a belated happy New Year to all of you.

Disclaimer: I don't own FOP, I've never owned FOP, not even in a past life, and if you don't stop asking, I'll sic my Wanda on you. Oh, wait, she's not mine either…

Chapter Fifteen: Where Fools Fear to Tread

"Good morning, sunshine. The earth says hello," Vicky cackled, throwing her pillow down atop Tootie, covered in dust from sleeping on the floor. Before she opened a bleary eye, she recalled it was Saturday, a fact she was most thankful for. Saturday, in all likelihood, meant Vicky would be preoccupied with babysitting and would promptly leave her alone.

"Isn't my bed a little too small for you?" Tootie replied, rolling out from under. She banged her head on the box spring and winced, pain shooting up her temple. One of these days, when she got some courage from the wizard (at this rate), she was going to get her for this. This and all the other crap she'd put her through. One of these days…she was going to pay.

"You'd think that, wouldn't you? But no, little miss ravie-locks, this bed fits _just_right." Dangling her foot down, she promptly kicked her back underneath and stood, stretching luxuriously.

The first thing springing to her mind she dared not utter, lest she start off a bad day even worse. Although she knew the word, thanks to Vicky, she wasn't stupid enough to call her that. Sure, it fit her, and, if she were Timmy, she'd probably say it, but the simple truth was she wasn't him and, in the situation she was in, it wasn't wise to say it.

Instead, she thought it, wishing there was a way she could hear her thoughts without figuring out who it was. If only her thoughts were cloaked like Deep Toot, then she could risk it. If only…

"Don't you have something to say to me? Like 'Good morning, my dearest older sibling Vicky, how wonderful and gorgeous you look'?" Sending her leg further back, she sought to kick Tootie; only the pigtailed girl crouched beneath her bed, her legs drawn up to her chest. Smaller targets when she couldn't see them tended to ensure she wouldn't be harmed.

Another phrase, rearranging Vicky's words, came to mind and she bit back a laugh. It was something of the equivalent of what she'd say to Trixie, had she half a mind and less empathy. That was her problem- she was too smart and sweet to do anything to harm anyone, regardless of how she felt about them.

Too bad that hadn't extended to her Freudian slip. Unwittingly, she'd had to let it slip and further complicate a bad situation. On her end, all she had to worry about was Timmy and whom he'd choose, but Trixie's sounded so much worse.

There was the key- sounded. She couldn't be certain whether or not she believed her, knowing her to lie in the past. And Tootie wasn't exactly her favorite person, so why should she tell her the truth?

Perhaps she ought to ask Timmy about it, but would he know? Moreover, would he talk to her after finding out she'd told Trixie? Would he ever look her in the eye again? She wouldn't be able to bear it; he was her world.

Meanwhile, above, Vicky had ceased searching for her sibling and, after bouncing up and down like a small child, hopped off her bed and left the room. She cast the underside of the bed a wary glance before she left, uttering cryptically. Tootie had a difficult time discerning her meaning, and, after she'd figured it out, she still wasn't terribly sure.

"Maybe if you do something about it, the twerp will be able to choose easier."

Something about it? Something about what, exactly? And was she encouraging or discouraging her? Did she actually care what happened? She thought she hated her, so why would she be rooting her on?

On the other hand, even if she hated her, she _was _family and she doubted she knew who Trixie was. Or rather, she hoped she didn't, because if she did, she might find herself in more hot water with Timmy than she had been before.

And what did she care about Timmy's love life, anyway? She'd never taken an interest before, even with the shrine. It didn't make any sense at all.

It wasn't as though Vicky had an active love life, either. The last time she'd heard Vicky obsessed with any boy was that British guy, and she'd been nearly as obsessed with him as she was with Timmy. In fact, her parents had never been treated as nicely before as when Vicky had a love interest. Vicky was far too preoccupied with making the boy like her to boss them around.

Maybe she thought if Tootie had a boyfriend, she wouldn't be around as much and wouldn't grate on her nerves. It couldn't be that she wanted her happy- she'd never in the past wanted her to be happy, so why start now? The whole comment made no sense.

Weighing the comment versus her past treatment, Tootie came to one conclusion, ask Vicky. Sure, it might be risking life and limb, but perhaps it was worth it, to end all the questions she'd brought about. She'd pulled one over on her last night; perhaps she'd be in a better mood to speak with her this morning.

Rolling out from under the bed, Tootie coughed up dust and shook her pajamas (decorated tastefully with Timmy faces) off. Hi, ho, hi, ho, it was off to Vicky's room she went.

_I just hope she won't murder me before breakfast…_

-----

Checking the hallway as if crossing a street, Tootie sped across, knocking swiftly on the always locked door of her older sister. Part of her ardently desired for her to ignore her and, although she'd leave just as confused as when she'd arrived, she wouldn't have to possibly invoke her wrath. In the grand scheme of things, she'd learned if Vicky was naturally in a good mood, it was best to leave her alone.

"Vicky?" Tootie murmured, fist poised to bang again. Too bad her head never seemed to work right around her (too much fear would do that to a person).

Jerking open the door so abruptly, Tootie nearly knocked on her legs, Vicky glowered at her. She still wore her pajamas and carried a picture of that boy, whose name she couldn't for the life of her recall. Apparently, she'd interrupted something…damn.

"What do you want, shrimp? I'm out of your room, aren't I? You don't usually like to have your head handed to you this early," Vicky snapped, folding her arms across her chest. She took in the raven-haired girl, rubbing sleep out of her eyes and bereft her glasses.

"What do you know about Timmy?" Tootie replied, forcing her tone to remain cool and collected despite the anxiety she felt upon dealing with this.

"You mean the twerp?" Vicky smirked, examining the picture before tucking it in the folds of her robes. Tootie shivered, not caring to know where that photo went.

"Yeah…" When in Rome, do as the Romans do. When with Vicky, call Timmy a 'twerp' and, invariably, refer to yourself as a 'twerpette'. It was the law of the land in Vicky country.

"Well, let's see." Holding up her fingers, she proceeded to tick off her knowledge, accrued from listening to (one), Tootie sleep talking (which she always did, even as a baby), and (two), eavesdropping on her business. It didn't hurt to have ammunition, especially in matters of the heart, and, although she might not admit it, she did care to a certain degree about her naïve younger sister. Well, to the point where she'd laugh her head off if her heart was broken, but still…

She was in a good mood, she might be inclined to give her some of her generous advice. Whether the twerpette used it was a different story, but frankly, she had no vested interest in this affair and whomever the twerp fell for, he fell for. If Tootie's charms hadn't worked so far, she sincerely doubted they would in the future.

And she knew her sister could be downright charming, given the right circumstances. When fear didn't dictate her actions, her personality became sweet, affectionate, and caring. (Although she knew none of this extended nor would extend to her). If Timmy, upon whom all her praise and adoration had been placed, couldn't see that, well, maybe he didn't deserve her. Let him go with Trixie Tang, if he wanted to. He was a stupid ten-year-old boy anyway.

"I know you kissed him (as usual) and that, this time, he kissed you back. I'd be willing to bet he did that because he was trying to keep you from kissing him again and just to shut you up, but who am I to judge? That twerp's never liked you and he's not going to."

Strolling out of her room, she draped an arm about her shoulder, under the pretense of giving her sisterly advice. Of course, her advice was sprinkled with nasty remarks, but this was simply how she operated. Being nice for too long damaged the wall she'd toiled so long on.

_Thanks for the editorial, Icky. Bitch_, Tootie thought, all the while training her eyes on Vicky's arm. She didn't trust the girl not to try something now that she had her hand on her. Hell, she'd done more with less provocation.

"And him taking Tang as a girlfriend just shows that. After all, if he really liked you, why would he pick someone else?" Smirking, Vicky paused to let her point sink in. She could always tell her sister's weaknesses and she loved to exploit them to the fullest. Surely, she'd been thinking that herself, wondering if it was her fault. It was her job to make sure Tootie knew for a fact that it was.

"He's always liked Trixie, though," Tootie replied despondently, a heavy weight descending upon her heart. With every passing word, Vicky cast the dread she'd shared beforehand and further spread it.

"And never you," Vicky retorted, with a nasty smile. "Despite everything you've done to convince him, he's never given you a second thought. Why should he now, just because you finally went insane enough to kiss him on the lips?"

Cold anger surged through her frame and, for the first time, Tootie contemplated openly rebelling her. These cracks seeped into her already unstable frame of mind and badly, she yearned for her to shut up. All this conversation and already, she hadn't gotten an explanation for her statement. Damn her.

"What did you mean, 'maybe if you do something about it, the twerp will be able to choose easier'?" Tootie snapped, nerves fraying. Slipping out, she glared heatedly. Her arms folded across her chest, her small frame trembling in suppressed rage.

"Drop out. You don't stand a chance anyway," Vicky cackled, opening the refrigerator and removing a carton of eggs. She snatched a cup from the cupboard and began to crack them open, preparing breakfast, unconsciously (since she'd grabbed four eggs) for two.

"So you still don't think he'll ever love me, huh?" Tootie hissed, inclined to grab an egg and, after using a chair, jump up and smash it on her head. Usually, she never put up this much a fuss, but she was seriously starting to piss her off. Egg dripping down her face…what a sight that would be. God, she'd love it.

Swiveling around, Vicky retorted, "No, I don't. You've already thrown yourself at him and the twerp's too damn stupid to see that you actually give a damn. You're too naïve, damn it. You think just because you care, something will happen.

"Well, it doesn't. Timmy doesn't like you, he'll never like you- get over it." With that, she cracked the last egg, shattering it inside the container, physically manifesting her internal rage. Tootie could be so stupid sometimes, it was simply astounding.

"Just because no boy will ever like you doesn't mean I don't stand a chance!" Tootie replied, glaring at her.

Pivoting, she turned to leave when Vicky, of course, had the last word. As she fished all the remnants of shell out, she replied.

"Maybe you ought to go gay- at least they'll appreciate you there!"

Quaking in rage, she stomped up the stairs, over to her room, and slammed the door. She'd prove her wrong…she'd get Timmy if it were the last thing she ever did. It wasn't her fault Vicky had no luck, maybe if she were a little nicer, boys might actually be interested.

As it was, she was just a bitch, or, in the words of Chip Skylark, Icky with a V.


	16. Everybody's Fool

Author's Note: Hello again. Nothing much to say, other than sorry for the delay. Please read and review, thank you!

Disclaimer: I may think I'm witty and maybe pretty, but FOP I do not own, as I sit here all alone.

Chapter Sixteen: Everybody's Fool

Tootie angrily kicked her cabinets and winced at the sensation. Anger rarely worked out in that way, since taking your frustration out on inanimate objects tended to end with the objects returning your anger. It hurt like a bitch, too…just like Vicky.

Why did she have to put her two cents in? Couldn't she just leave well enough alone? And what did she mean, "you'd be more appreciated if you went gay"? Was she insinuating that only person who would like her was some lesbian, desperate for another girl?

These questions thundered in her head, as well as the blood pumping furiously through her veins. Bringing up Timmy was always a sure fire way to annoy Tootie whenever Vicky did it and right now, she couldn't see straight, she was so angry. Forget her anger or whatever it was she held right now towards Trixie, it didn't matter. She was going to get her sister back first.

But how was the question. Unlike Vicky, she had no experience with retribution and, although she surely merited it, that didn't mean the ideas flowed through her head like wine. Instead, they were stemmed, as though she were forcing them past a tremendous writer's block.

For once, she'd never been more upset to see her Timmy shrine than now. Vicky had a nasty way of rubbing things in, didn't she? Timmy had never liked her, would probably never start, and he'd always liked Trixie. It was always about her, no matter what she did.

Yes, she knew he was shallow, but she couldn't help holding on in the desperate hope he'd realize she cared deeply about him. Or maybe he had, but he still couldn't see her as anything other than an annoying, creepy little girl. She wasn't as pretty or as popular or as rich as Trixie…so she was dirt in Timmy's eyes.

The realization pained her considerably and, for once, she praised Vicky for opening her eyes finally to the truth. She was nothing…she'd never be anything to him…he'd made his choice…

And the years of his actions finally made some semblance of sense. She fell to her knees on the carpet; her eyes welling up with unshed tears. She'd never given up hope on Timmy before, but…it was useless to try anything now. If he'd wanted her, he wouldn't have kissed her just to send her away…

What chance had she stood against Trixie, anyway? She had everything Tootie didn't and more. Sure, she didn't have a mother (if she chose to believe that story), but she had Timmy's heart and that was what mattered.

She just wished she didn't have a gut feeling like she was making a mistake. What mistake could she be making? Timmy had Trixie and he was happy…wasn't he? He couldn't be suffering any guilt pangs, because there was nothing to feel. He'd never liked her to begin with, so he couldn't feel bad that he was with Trixie now and not her.

Nevertheless, it felt like such a lie, to believe the situation was hopeless and to give up. She couldn't…she hadn't in the past…so why was she now? Was it finally the truth she saw- or Vicky's interpretation?

Without warning or provocation, her stomach growled. So, she _had _been hungry…not that it mattered. If she wanted breakfast, she'd either have to fend Vicky off for it or starve.

"Hey, twerpette! Get down here and eat your breakfast or I'll eat it for you!" Vicky cackled from downstairs.

_She couldn't have made me breakfast…that's so out of character for her…but maybe she's worried about me._

_Ha! Vicky worried about me, now that's a new one. Next thing you know, Timmy's going to call me and tell me Trixie was a mistake and he really likes **me**, not that harlot._

_Oh, well…better see if she made toxic sludge or something again, I guess. _

Shrugging her shoulders, she idly kicked the cabinet one more time before descending down to whatever fresh hell Vicky had to offer. Perhaps, if she were lucky, it'd take her mind off Timmy for a little while. Then again, knowing Vicky, she sincerely doubted it.

-------

(Five years ago, July 21st)

_God, it's so hot. Yes, she's aware of her location (although not entirely what living in California means, given the fact she's a five year old), but it's never been so hot in her short little life. (And that includes Christmas last year, with the unseasonable but not unexpected heat wave)._

_Sweat trickles off her forehead and, dressed in a pair of purple shorts and a white t-shirt, her long hair trailing down her back, she's hotter than ever. For once, she almost wishes she'd let Vicky cut her hair, since it feels like it's weighing her down. Everything feels like it's weighing her down, especially Timmy going to summer camp._

_That's right, it's a Timmy free summer (and it's a bummer). Without Timmy around, her days have never been so bleak, nothing at all to look forward to. Instead, she spends much of her time in her room and draws frantically, trying to recreate her beloved. Unfortunately, lacking the experience necessary to replicate him, her efforts fall flat._

_Litters of paper surround her, as well as her beloved doll with Timmy's real hair. It lies lifelessly on the floor and reminds her of herself, yearning to lie listlessly on the floor. However, she has no idea where Vicky is and, whenever that happens, she knows she has to be on her guard, just in case._

_Her parents have conveniently decided to try to register them for Dimmsdale Swim Club, so it's just the two girls in the house. Were Tootie old enough to realize it, this technically constitutes as child neglect, but, seeing as she's only five, she only realizes it means Vicky all day and probably all night. She's only old enough to recognize one thing- her parents are avoiding them._

_And, in her naïve state of mind, she believes it to be her fault. After all, that's all Vicky says, that everything's her fault. In fact, if the world were to collapse, she hypothesizes that everyone would simultaneously point their fingers in her direction. They'll all scream, "Get Tootie!" and she'll run for her life._

_Far too young to be plagued by such thoughts but mucked in them nonetheless, Tootie wearily turns her head towards the open window and open door, in a vague attempt to cool herself. They possess no air conditioning nor fans, so any lingering breeze is the most welcome thing in the world right now. That reminds her…Vicky'll probably want her to fan her or something. She'd better get up._

_Slowly, leaning on the bed, she rises and wipes the beads of sweat off her forehead. With any luck, Vicky will be too busy finding someone else to torture and she won't have to do anything. Just the thought of either one of them being out of that house and separate makes her long for Timmy even more. Even if he doesn't want her around, trailing him gives her an excuse to avoid Vicky._

_And her room is none too comfy, anyway. It's far too stuffy, crammed with stuffed animals she doesn't want and toys she'll never use. Her parents insist on buying her love and it hasn't worked yet._

_If only they'd do that with Vicky, instead of letting her intimdate them. Vicky's probably easy bought off, for the right price. She can tell by the way her sister's eyes gleam when she sees money, how much she wants it. _

_"Tootie!" Vicky screeches from downstairs and she shudders. Time to get to work._

_"Get down here and eat or I'll get you instead!" _

_What? Eat? Does she intend for her to make her a sandwich or something? Now she's confused. Unless their parents have left them something and Vicky's pretending to share it with her. That could be it, since, once in a while, their parents actually appear to care whether or not her older sister starves her._

_Feeling her sticky skin and the beads of sweat, she walks slowly down the stairs, aware that the quicker she moves, the hotter she'll be. Not even the impetus of Vicky with food urges her on, considering she'll probably never outmaneuver her long enough to eat. Why would she let her? After all, she doesn't seem to care if she lives or dies, so why not let her starve?_

_"Damn it, twerpette, I'm not going to stand here all day with these sandwiches in my hands, waiting for you to get down here!" Vicky snarls, moving out of the kitchen and in front of the stairs. Tootie gazes at her, completely bewildered. Are those sandwiches for her? Has she actually made her something?_

_"Are those for me?" Tootie inquires, shuddering at the idea of the possible trickery running through her sister's mind right now. _

_"No, they're for the dog we don't have! Yes, they're for you!" Vicky snaps, waltzing up the stairs and slamming the plate down in her hands. Tootie's so startled, she nearly drops it._

_"Why would you make me lunch?" _ And is it poisoned?

_Nonchalantly, handing her a can of soda, she smirks. So, not only has she made her lunch, but she's provided a beverage as well? Okay…something's up. She can't quite put her finger on it, but Vicky's being far too nice._

_And, to boot, the sandwiches are her favorite, cream cheese and grape jelly. They're prepared just the way their mother makes them, and hold neither odd odor nor unusual color. Unless the cream cheese is actually white paint, she might have been kind for once._

_Holding one up, she sniffs closely, just in case she missed the smell the first time. However, yet again, she detects nothing. Other than jelly and cream cheese, no foul scent pervades her nostrils, utterly nothing. _

_"You know, twerpette, I may not like you, but I'm sure as hell not trying to kill you," Vicky replies, walking down the stairs. _

_"And you're welcome."_

_Standing there, holding a sandwich in one hand and a plate in the other, Tootie gawks at her as she strides coolly down the stairs again and settles down for a good long time on the couch. Silence reigns as Tootie attempts to discern the meaning behind her actions. What did she mean, she wasn't trying to kill her? All she's been doing since she's known her is belittle her, inform her she's a mistake, and treat her like crap._

_Murmuring, her head low, she replies, "Thanks."_

_But Vicky either doesn't hear her…or pretends not to._

--------

(Return to the present)

It was her favorite meal again, something that surprised her on two levels- one, she'd bothered to learn what her favorite foods were and two, that she made them for her without eating them herself. In fact, she stood over her, watching her eat as though waiting for something.

When she finished, she glanced up at her and was again startled to see a look of compassion in her sister's eyes. It flickered, of course and then quickly vanished, but it was there, nonetheless. She wasn't laughing her head off at her, mocking her for her shrine to Timmy, or doing anything else. The shift took her aback.

"I'll grill the twerp for you. He won't get away with this," Vicky muttered, the only words she spoke to Tootie for the rest of the day.

And Tootie, befuddled again, mulled this over for a good, long time.


	17. Reprecussions

Author's Note: As we near the finale, you will notice there will be no more (or, in all likelihood, very few) flashbacks. This is because the rest of this story deals with the consequences of the past…and how it impacts the future.

Disclaimer: I don't own Fairly Oddparents.

Chapter Seventeen: Repercussions

"Welcome to your nightmare, twerp!" Vicky cackled, flinging open the already unlocked front door and slamming her 'kid kit' unceremoniously down on the sofa. Once again, he saw the lightning behind her, wondered exactly why no one else noticed just how icky she was, and prepared to cower. If only his parents could be in the room to see how she treated him…but she was always so nice in front of them.

Meanwhile, behind her, he could swear he saw Tootie, diminished by her malevolence. Vicky did not appear to notice her presence, too busy laughing maniacally to see her. In her hands was a Timmy doll and a note, which, from his vantage point, appeared to be tear stained.

This was their first meeting since the fated kiss and she looked far worse for the wear. Whether it was a combination of his choosing Trixie over her or Vicky's bullying, he couldn't say, but she looked awful. If he weren't already in a quagmire concerning Trixie, he'd ask her what was up. As it was, perhaps later.

Like a breeze, his parents swept into the room, offered Timmy their goodbyes and hoped he'd have a good time with Vicky (yeah, right), and then left for another 'business meeting'. When he was older, he would discover the source of their 'meetings' to be nothing more than an excuse to leave him alone, but, since he was only ten, he had a few years to go.

As soon as they were gone, Vicky shut the door quickly. Her eyes gleamed sinisterly and he inherently retreated, right into the chair. There was no way in heck he was going to idly sit by when she had something up her sleeve. To his bedroom, that was the ticket.

Before he could escape, however, unscathed, she tackled him to the floor. She sat on him, leaning her elbow on his head. All together, not a very pleasant way to sit.

Tootie, slowly walking inside, gasped. An odd look crossed her face, caught between sympathy and satisfaction. But satisfaction? Why would Tootie permit him to be manhandled?

"Tootie…" Timmy gasped, realizing if he made a ploy for her, she might attempt to overthrow her sister and thus, free him. After all, she always claimed to be in love with him, so why let this go on? Even if she was afraid of her sister, she had to have some power over her. After all, they were siblings, so they had to share some common traits.

Out of the corner of his eye, conversely, he saw her shake her head and, still slowly, stride to the couch and perch on an armrest. Timmy was no genius, but he began to sense someone set him up. Or, perhaps it was both of them.

But Vicky working with Tootie? No way…

"Oh, Tootie's not answering right now," Vicky snapped, grinding her elbow into the back of his head acutely. He winced, biting back a painful cry. The horrible thing about it was that if his parents discovered the bruise later, they'd just put the blame squarely on him and not on Vicky. Life was so unfair.

"Tootie, what the heck is going on here!" Timmy cried, seeing stars. _And why aren't you coming to my rescue? Where are Cosmo and Wanda when you need them?_

"Why did you 'hook up' with Trixie after we kissed? Was I that horrible?" Tootie burst out, unable to stem the flow of emotions she'd harbored for so long. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes but she ignored them. Timmy had seen her cry far too many times before.

"That isn't it-" He began, but a swift karate chop silenced him. If Vicky continued in this vein, she'd surely knock him unconscious. Damn her…

Righteous fury burning in her eyes and causing her fists to tremble, Tootie snapped, "Oh, really? Then what was it? I know she's prettier than me and popular-"

Vicky smirked, cutting off her speech with a violent punch in the back of the head. It felt good to finally pound the living crap out of the twerp…even if she might get fired for this. There were always other people in Dimmsdale to exploit- and besides, knowing his parents, she could write off anything. This current beating was no exception.

She didn't know why she was suddenly so irate with him, however. Was it because she detested the way he treated her younger sister? But what should _she _care? She always told her she was better off dead.

Unless she wanted the sole right to abuse her…which could very well be the case. After all, Tootie was her sister, so she should have the ability to ruin her happiness, not some stupid boy. Only she could wreck her self-esteem, no one else.

Timmy cried out this time, about to faint. Already, the idea tempted him and he wished Cosmo and Wanda were here to defend him. He understood Wanda's position, certainly, but why would Cosmo give him the cold shoulder? Had she convinced him not to help?

Gazing helplessly at the rug, he waited for another series of questions and pain to flood his senses. He'd get Vicky back for this, one thing was for certain.

And if Vicky was like this, what did it spell for Tootie? She could very well be a Vicky in hiding, waiting until they were alone to beat the crap out of him. She couldn't be trusted…she was Vicky's little sister. Cruelty had to run in the family.

He shut his eyes, recalling Tootie chasing him around. She hadn't shown a bit of the malevolence Vicky had, but one never knew. Maybe she was acting cute now in the hopes she could abuse him later.

It made about as much sense as him kissing her back, after all. Although their kiss had given him a greater adrenaline rush than any he'd shared with Trixie, it could be that the adrenaline was actually fear and he feared her. After all, as shown before, Vicky was capable of so much…and Tootie could easily imitate her. She could be cold and heartless too, couldn't she?

"Well, twerp? Aren't you going to correct my baby sister?" Vicky snapped, yanking up by his hair and slamming him into a wall, this time avoiding slamming his head. He was grateful, by a small token, since this meant she wasn't consciously trying to knock him out. However, the small token grew steadily smaller- he was in too much in other areas to notice.

Words he'd never uttered surfaced in his head and he longed to scream that at her. Words he wasn't supposed to know, that Wanda would frown up, yet oddly suited her. They tore at his throat, burned the tears in the corner of his eyes, and caused his heart to beat wildly. Dare he tell Vicky exactly what he thought of her? Dare he finally let her have it?

Again she smirked, enjoying the hatred simmering in his cerulean blue eyes. Their deep pools flashed with anger, yearning to express itself through other means. Yes, their height difference enabled her to humiliate him easier and she exploited it, hence he fumed.

Or it could be the beating he received. More than likely, it was a combination of their sizes and the way she used hers against his that angered him. Well, whatever, let him rage. He deserved this.

Vicky edged her face steadily closer to him, until they were nose to nose. He could feel her hot breath on his lips and the pressure she exerted on his upper arms. She pervaded his being…and he'd had about enough of her.

Tootie, meanwhile, hung back, more terrified of Vicky than ever before. Besides, if she did in fact try to help Timmy, she might end up harming him further. This was a very tricky situation she'd permitted him to get into…

"Aren't you going to answer me, _twerp_?" She hissed, tightening the pressure on his upper arms. He didn't squirm, but his face tightened.

Instead of replying verbally, Timmy spat in her face and headbutted her, using the element of surprise to kick her in the sides and squirm out of her hold. He shoved her away from him and, swaying slightly, leaned on the sofa to give Tootie a few words before he vanished for his room.

"I'm sorry I even _thought _I liked you. You're no better than your sister!" Timmy snapped, shoving her away as well. Their eyes met for a second before he took off and she sunk to the floor.

-

Timmy slammed the door as hard as he could, disregarding his headache. He was so furious with himself for letting Vicky do this to him, he could care less about the ringing in his ears.

That reminded him- he kicked the cupboard atop which perched Cosmo and Wanda's fishbowl. Where were they when he needed them? Did he have to call them every single time?

Floating out of their castle, looking peeved, Wanda first gave Timmy a swift scrutiny before poofing out in her fairy form. Her eyes, previously narrowed, now transformed into a caring look. No matter how angry she might be at her godson, no matter how stupid he might act, she genuinely cared about him. The way he looked now, it appeared as though he'd suffered some sort of beating, although there were no black eyes or cut lips.

In this way, Vicky had been very particular about the way she'd dealt out the punishment. Unless his parents searched his scalp or the back of his head, they couldn't tell what his babysitter had done. Vicky may have been cruel, malevolent, and lacking common sense, but that didn't mean she wasn't cunning. Any fool could beat up a younger child, but she'd thought ahead and prevented herself from doing anything noticeable.

"Are you all right, sport?" Wanda inquired, floating around him and scrutinizing the back of his head. After being around children so long, she recognized head blows.

"Did Tootie beat you up?" Cosmo grinned, floating out of the castle. He quickly joined his wife, although what on earth she was looking for eluded him.

"No, she got Vicky instead," Timmy snapped, flinging himself on the bed. As soon as he did, he wished he hadn't. The abrupt motion, combined with the dull throbbing in his head, made him queasy.

"But Vicky can't beat you up!" Cosmo protested. "She isn't _that _stupid."

"Wouldn't your parents notice if she laid a hand on you?" Wanda pointed out, waving her wand and healing the back of his head, just in case. Some of his hair had been matted with what she strongly suspected was blood.

"Not if she just hit me in the head!" He retorted. "She's just like her sister!"

Wanda frowned. What a rather cryptic line, considering she sincerely doubted Tootie was capable of such random acts of violence. Tootie was a nice sweet girl and she wished he'd just see that.

"Why? Did Tootie knock you around too? Are you a piñata?" Cosmo asked, grinning and poofing up a bat to hit him with in the hopes of getting candy. Wanda angrily poofed the bat away, her eyes narrowed.

"I wish I'd never been attracted to her in the first place! She got her sister to beat me up!" Timmy snapped, and, before Wanda could interject, continued.

"I wish that I'd never be desperate enough to be attracted to her ever again! I wish that no matter what she looks like, whatever she wears, that I'll never ever feel any sort of attraction, only repulsion!" Timmy roared, jumping up in the air.

"And what if you're no longer attracted to Trixie in the future and you want a nice, sweet girl to settle down with and raise a family?" Wanda retorted, jabbing her wand at him.

"Yeah!" Cosmo added, with nothing else to really say, but he wanted to feel important.

"I don't care, just grant it!" Timmy bellowed and Cosmo quaked, hiding behind his wife.

"You're going to negatively impact the future," Wanda warned. "You might disrupt the timeline and cause anomalies to occur."

"I don't care! Just shut up and grant my wish!" He snapped, eyes burning in fury.

Wanda, trembling in anger herself, held up her wand and granted the wish. There was an odd ping, followed by the sound of glass shattering, and then, silence. All three held their breath, until Timmy broke the silence.

"Did it work?" He asked, frowning.

"I think," Cosmo said, completely serious, "that you broke the timeline."

"Huh?"

"You'll see…" Wanda murmured, her face stark white. "You'll see what you've done…"

-

Tootie looked up, an odd feeling coursing through her body. She shivered, although not from the cold, but from a lack of warmth. She glanced at the stairs and, for the first time, wondered what kind of monster she'd unleashed.


	18. Set In Stone

Author's Note: (See note at the end of the chapter…oh, and a premature celebration of a 100 reviews for this story. Thank you all).

Disclaimer: For the last time for this story, I do not own Fairly Oddparents.

Chapter Eighteen: Sealed in Stone

He told her he had something else to say to her and so she came. Now she waited, her heart in her hands, as he composed himself. Without asking, she felt she had a fairly good inkling.

Back and forth he paced the room. Every once in a while, he'd stop abruptly, and then restart. Whatever he had to say, she certainly hoped he'd say it before her heart stopped along with his treading. Didn't he know what he was doing to him?

Finally, with a peculiar look fixed upon his face, he turned to her. It unsettled her, causing her to retreat into a nearby couch. This was his house, his turf, and she had nothing. He held all the cards…including ones she didn't know about.

"Tootie," He began, speaking her name as though it choked him. Her heart skipped a beat.

"What is it?" She asked warily, gazing down at his fists, clenched. He hated her, didn't he? After all, if he hadn't before, he was bound to now. Was there any point in defending herself? Of stating she hadn't known Vicky would take things so far?

Of course she hadn't known he'd be dealt so many blows to the head. Maybe that impacted his decision…hopefully in her favor. However, she wasn't holding her breath. Simply put, something smelled fishy.

"I thought I'd let you know…" He continued, touching her shoulder. Giddiness seized her and she quickly scorned herself for believing Timmy might rebuke her. Touching indicated affection, right?

Very slowly, she moved towards him, placing her hand atop his. He neither pushed her away nor beckoned her.

"Timmy?" She whispered, squeezing his hand. Now, he pulled it off her shoulder as if stung and glowered at her. What on earth was going on here?

Backing up again, she whimpered, "Timmy, you're scaring me."

He was indeed. His eyes burned coldly, showing only contempt for her. Through his stance, she could discern lurking malevolence, cruelty beyond expression.

Grabbing her hand, he squeezed it, but this time, unlike her touch, quite painfully. She could feel the bones rub together in her hand and, even when she cried out, he didn't halt. Instead, he applied more pressure and she screamed. Satisfied, he stopped.

Tears filled her eyes and she, holding her right hand in her left, fell to her knees. Gazing up at him, she pleaded him for forgiveness.

However, his eyes were cold and unyielding. They were inhumane, like Vicky's and she knew, immediately, what he was about to say, what was inevitable. Her heart sank to the bottom of her stomach and she wished, for all it was worth, that he could not bring himself to utter those words.

"Are you going to cry?" He spat, eyes narrowed to slits. She continued to retreat, for the first time fearing him possibly more than her older sister. At least with her it was a known evil, as opposed to this odd and possibly dangerous entity that deigned itself Timmy Turner.

Barely suppressing her sobs, she turned from him, preferring, for once, that he didn't see her cry.

Very gently, almost tenderly, he enveloped her and she relaxed. He certainly had a way of confusing her…as though magic dictated his actions and not logic. Well, whatever it was, if he suddenly reverted back to normal and told her he'd chosen her, she wasn't going to complain. In fact, if he didn't let go of her, she'd never have anything to complain about ever again.

His fingers traced the trail of her tears and he tenderly thumbed them away. She held her breath, gazing up at him.

_Kiss me…_

Huskily, as though she really had woven a spell over him, he whispered, "I hate you."

With that, he shoved her away, sending her uncomfortably into the couch. For once, she was too frightened to cry and she merely stared back at him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Terror seized her and, for a second, she couldn't breathe.

"You repulse me," He spat, and, after giving her an extremely nasty look, he stomped up the stairs.

Another chill seized her and she whimpered, pressing her face into the pillow. Tears cascaded down her face and, for not the last time in her future…she shed bitter tears over what she'd caused.

-

Timmy shook again, but not from suppressed anger. This time, it was from the horror of what he'd done. How could he have been so callous to her? How could he give her so many mixed signals?

And, moreover, how could he now hate her? What on earth had happened? When he spoke to her, instead of himself, it was like there was another being there, controlling his actions. He'd read his lines, rehearsed, and stole him, hook, line and sinker.

"Guys, I don't understand!" Timmy cried, fearful of what he may have caused. Pleadingly, he sought his godparents. Surely, he could amend this great wrong.

"When I made that wish, I didn't realize it'd make me-" He began, but Wanda cut him off. Her eyes, instead of angry, were deeply sorrowful. She'd seen what he'd done…

"You destroyed the future, and, by doing so, a part of yourself. You were destined to marry Tootie in the far future…when you made that wish, you destroyed the timeline. Timmy, I don't know how to tell you this, but what you've done may be irrevocable," Wanda murmured sadly, hanging her head.

-

Smirking, Vicky took in her pitiful little sister and, deigning the best course of action, left to try to beat some more sense into Timmy. Namely, to never touch her sister again. Ten yards was too close.

She climbed the stairs stealthily, in case he was doing something unsavory and she could catch him in the act. Getting him in trouble would be the icing on the cake.

Very carefully, she crept to his bedroom door and, before flinging it open, halted. There were voices coming from within…

-

"I wish I'd never wished what I just wished!" Timmy cried, on the verge of sobbing like Tootie was below.

"Wanna add another 'wish' to that sentence?" Wanda muttered, but she held up her wand. This time, nothing happened. Absolutely nothing.

Desperate, he repeated himself and again, nothing happened. The wish simply wouldn't work…the future he'd destroyed could not be salvaged.

"Maybe the future I created won't be that terrible…" He whispered, shivering.

-

Outside, by his door, leaning in and seeing his fairy godparents through the crack, Vicky cackled mentally. She made a mental note to store her memory of Cosmo and Wanda until she could use it…

"Don't count on happiness, _twerp_."

-

Author's Note: This is continued in Shrouded Silhouettes, chapter four. There will be no more chapters of this story nor of Reflections in a Shallow Pool. They have run their course and are both finished.

If you wish to know Timmy Turner's and the rest's futures, you _must _read that chapter. Otherwise, I cannot help you.

http: and in reply to Darth Ni- haven't you ever been paralyzed with indecision?

That is all.

soulfulsin

Once Upon a Fractured Fairy Tale- 8/25/04- 2/07/05

Reflections in a Shallow Pool- 9/19/04- 2/05/05


End file.
